What The Hell Is Going On?
by Kitty Kat-chan
Summary: -rated for langauge- Most of us have read stories of how a girl goes to the MASH unit and meets everyone. But what if it happened backwards? What if, instead, the MASH unit came to her? How will the surgeons of the 4077th react to 2004? -no romance-
1. Bad Day

**Hello, readers. I know most of you have read fics where kids (mostly girls) have gone back in time to the MASH unit, meet everybody, yada yada yada. I, personally, like those fics. But what if it happened backwards? Instead of the girl going to the MASH unit, the MASH unit came to her? THAT IS WHAT THIS FIC'S ALL ABOUT, BABY! I think this is the first one in this section, but I'm not sure. . . Well, read and review! Tell me if I should continue!**

**Quote of the Day: **

_**Col. Flagg:** I have no home. . .I'm the wind._

_**Hawkeye: **I **told **you he was the wind, you said he was the stars!_

_**B.J: **No, I said he was the moon._

**Disclaimer: I wished upon a star, prayed to God, broke a wishbone, and covered myself in lucky items (rabbits feet, 4-leaf clovers, horse-shoes, etc.), but I still don't own MASH. Pity, isn't it? **

**What The Hell Is Going On?**

**Chapter 1**

**Bad Day**

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**'South Carolina, 2004'**

You know, before the whole 'incident' happened, I was just a normal 15 year old girl waiting for my life to start. My name's Vicky Turner. Since my parents died when I was four, I live with my grandparents (my father's parents), on their farm, on top of a very large and steep hill. The farm is at the edge of a small (small) town here in South Carolina. The house I live in is an old, two-story Victorian house with a tire-swing in front, a cherry tree in back, and a stable beside the house with a huge, penned field on the other side. Granny and Pop raise pigs, horses, cows, chickens, and an old goat. We also have an evil, snaggled-tooth tom cat that lives in the old shed out back, and an old collie named Mattie.

My grandmother, I shall say now, is absolutely insane. One minute, she's everyone's favorite grandmother, and the next, she thinks she's on safari, assuming an annoying fly is a lion as she tracks it down with a fly- swatter, wearing khaki hunting clothes. Granny is a small, bone-thin woman who usually keeps her steel-colored hair back in a bun.

My grandfather can be insane himself, sometimes. Usually however, he was a thin, tall man that was very quiet, very wise, and very grumpy. Pop didn't have any hair, and he wore small, circle-framed glasses. He mostly wore black pants, a thread-bare shirt and suspenders.

As for me, well, I'm of average height and very skinny for my age. I have thin, limp blonde hair that hangs down past my shoulders a little. My eyes are brown, and I'm. . . uh, how should I put this. . . a little under- developed. I mean, I'm not as developed as other girls. I don't have many hobbies, except drawing, reading, and watching MASH, my favorite show.

But anyways, the day all hell broke loose started off BAD, which was very fitting on what happened, depending on how you look at it. That morning, I fell out of bed when Granny woke me up. As soon as that happened, I knew that it would not be a good day. After falling out of bed, the next bad thing that happened was I bruised my knee on my bedside table, then when I went to brush my teeth, I squirted toothpaste in my eye. Do you know how painful that is? That seriously stings, man.

At school, I got an F on a test, got hit in the head with a soccer ball during PE, got dumped by my no-good-dirty-rotten-god-damn-son-of-a-bitch-ex- boyfriend ('Look, Vick, it's not you, ok, it's _me. _I just think that we should see other people, you know, widen our horizons a bit, that's all.'), and forgot to do my term paper.

At work (I work at a gas-station/store, part time), I encountered five, count 'em, FIVE angry customers because the gas-machines weren't working. Now, was that my fault? Was I the manager? Did I look like a mechanic? No, I didn't, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it.

"All right, I'm goin' now." I told my best friend, Cindy, as I untied my blue apron that all the employees at the gas-station had to wear. Cindy was black, and had long, straight hair that she usually wore in a ponytail. She looked at me in concern.

"Girl, it's late, you should call your grandparents," she told me. I smiled at her concern as I picked up my bookbag. "I'll be fine," I replied. "Anyways, I'll probably get home faster if I walk. After all, I've got a ten-paragraphed paper on World War II that I haven't started yet and it's due tomorrow, and you know how slow Pop drives." I turned and walked out.

"Call them!" Cindy shouted after me. I turned around slightly as I walked to look at her.

"I'll be fine, don't worry," I called. Then I turned back around and headed down the road, ignoring her as she shouted at me, "Call them!"

Now that I think about it, maybe I should have called them. . .

Along the way home, I got drenched as several cars splashed me with puddles produced from the rain storm that hit us the day before. When I got home, I was soaked from head-to-toe. I took out my house key to unlock the door, because Granny and Pop were usually asleep by then. But to my surprise, the door was unlocked. Worried, I stepped into the silent house. "Granny," I called. "Pop?"

"In the kitchen, Victoria," I heard Granny call. Relieved, I hurried down the hall and into the kitchen. Granny turned and beamed at me. The first thing she said was, "Oh, Vicky, it's so good to have the boys home from the war!"

I blinked, confused. The only war that I knew that was going on was the one in Iraq, and I was pretty sure I didn't have any male relatives over there. "Excuse me?" I asked. Granny continued, "John even brought his fiancée here. Such a pleasant girl. . . and Matthew is such a comedian, too. . ." By then, I was really confused. Granny was talking about my father's older brother's, Johnathan and Matthew, both long dead. "Are you feelin' okay?" I asked as I followed her into the dining room.

I stopped to talk with Pop as he walked out of the dining room, a sour look on his face. Before I could ask, he said, "We've got company," and shuffled to the living room to sit on his recliner and read the paper. I looked at the coo- coo clock hanging on the wall. It read 8:35 on it. I sighed. I would have to stay up for a loooong time to write that paper.

I shuffled into the dining room to a) see who the visitors were and b) get some food. My body and mind froze when I saw who was sitting at MY dining table. I faintly heard Granny say, "Vicky, dear, come and fix your plate, and say hello to your uncle's! Don't be rude!"

The entire crew of MASH sat at my table. Well, Hawkeye, Trapper, Henry, Radar, and Father Mulchay, anyway. Frank, Margaret, and Klinger were sitting on extra chairs that had been placed up against the wall. I couldn't think. I couldn't breathe. Instead, I said this:

**_"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!!?!"_**

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**So, what ya think? Remember, this is only the first chapter. Like it? Hate it? Let me know so I can update! Ideas are always welcome!**


	2. Explanations

**You like me! You really like me! Oh, I dunno what to say. . . I'm so happy! I honestly didn't think anyone would like this fic. . . Anyway, I forgot to mention that it's September in the story. School's just about started, and stuff. Also, like I said, ideas are always welcome!**

_**Quote of the Day:**_

_**Sidney: **Ladies and gentlemen, take my advice: pull down your pants and slide on the ice._

**Disclaimer: No, I do not own it. DON'T MAKE ME CRY! **

**What The Hell Is Going On?**

**Chapter 2**

**Explanations**

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_BAM!_

I felt Granny's hand slam against the back of my skull almost as soon as the words left my mouth.

"Victoria Maria Turner! Don't you dare use that language under this roof! Sit down right now!" I heard my grandmother scold.

Head throbbing, I did so. Granny left to get an extra plate, leaving me to stare bewilderedly at our 'guests'.

"Hi," Hawkeye (THE Hawkeye!) said eventually. In response, I slammed my head against the kitchen table in pure misery (I had read enough fanfictions to know that their stay here would be a living hell).

"How is it possibly possible that you are here?" I practically wailed. The MASH people merely looked at each other in confusion. Granny soon came bustling in with a plate full of her home baked chicken, mash potatoes, and other goodies. She set the plate in front of me, smiling cheerfully.

"Come, come, eat up! The war must have been dreadful," she called over her shoulder as she went back to the kitchen. Almost immediately, Frank (aka Ferret Face) was inmy face, glaring and ugly.

"Alright, kid, listen up. You better give us straight answers, you here me," he spat (spraying my face with his disgusting, germ-crawling spit, may I add).

"Are you a commie?"

Disgusted beyond all reason, I shoved him away. "Oh, go blow it out your ass, you dipwad," I snapped impatiently. "And get out of my face, you may give me fleas."

I shoved him away as his face turned a beetish-purpleish color.

"She told you Frank," Hawkeye said, smirking. "Oh, shut up!" Frank snapped. "Take your own advice, you pansy!" I snapped back.

"I hope that's not fighting I hear," I heard Granny call from the kitchen. We quieted down.

I glared at Ferret Face. "To answer your question, you ass-wipe, no, I'm NOT a commie, just a severely pissed-off teenager with a severe migraine," I snarled at him. "And to answer any further questions you might have, you're in Cottageville, South Carolina. And it's Thursday, 9, 2004."

"Oh yeah?" Frank snapped. "Well if it's 2004, then where are the flying cars, robots and stuff?" I rolled my eyes. I forgot people expected the 21st century to be all space-age.

"Flying cars haven't been invented yet, you stupid-head. This is only semi- space age." I muttered, rubbing my temples. I took a bite out of my chicken. It tasted like sandpaper.

Frank was about to retort, but Henry interrupted. "Why don't we introduce ourselves?" He said with forced cheerfulness. "My name's—"

I waved a hand impatiently, cutting him off. "I already know who you lot are. You're Henry Blake. That ass-wipe over there is Frank Burns, Blondie beside him is Margaret Houlihan—"

"Aha! I knew it! You're a spy! And you're trying to trick us so you can take us hostage!" Frank shouted triumphantly.

"Oh, Frank, shut up!" I shouted. I was starting to see red, which is never a good sign for me.

"There certainly is a lot of conflict in this room," Father Mulchay piped up. I sighed wearily. "Sorry, Father," I apologized. "It's quite alright, my daughter," he reassured. I looked at all of them for a minute. All of them seemed to want to know how I knew their names—of course, Frank and Margaret also looked like they wanted to rip my head off.

"Alright, look," I finally started. "If you guys will tell me what happened, then I'll tell you how I know your names, ok?"

Everyone began talking at once. That did nothing to help with my headache. I clapped my hands over my ears, wincing.

"_**QUIET!**_" I roared. Silence. I sighed again. Granny came in, carrying a glass of iced-tea. "Almost forgot your tea, Vicky dear," she said sweetly. She set it beside my plate and looked around, still smiling. "Everyone having a good time?" she asked.

Everyone said yes, nodding with forced smiles. Smiling still, Granny walked back to the kitchen, humming.

Dropping my smile, I turned back to everyone. I took a sip from my tea, closed my eyes, and pointed with my other hand. When I opened them, it had landed on Klinger (who was wearing a red dancing dress).

I smiled sweetly. "Klinger," I began. "Why don't you tell us how you got here?"

Klinger smoothed his skirt out, and began.

"Well," he started, "I was on guard duty, like always. Only this time I had to start a little earlier because the guy before got food poisoning. It came up so suddenly that I didn't get to change, and I just got this dress! (At this point, Ferret Face made a disgusted noise in his throat. When I caught his gaze, I crossed my eyes at him.)

"So, I had to be very careful, this is good silk, y'know," Klinger continued, stroking the material of his dress. "I was turning a corner when there was this bright flash of light suddenly. I blacked out, and when I came to, I was there in your yard with Radar on top of me."

I nodded, trying to understand. . . but nope, nothing was connecting. I turned to everyone else. "Is that what happened to you guys too? The flashing light, I mean." I asked. Everyone said yes. I sighed again. That was no help at all.

"Remember what you said," Radar's voice broke my thoughts. "You said if we told you how we got here you would tell us how you knew our names." Once again, for the umpteenth time that day, I sighed. This was gonna take awhile. . .

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I think I'll leave it there. Remember, reviews are greatly accepted. Ideas, too! Go down to the purple button and review please! 


	3. More explanations, a chick fight, and on...

**I luv reviews! Thank you for being so encouraging! Now, to answer a few questions. . .**

**Trivette Lover Heather:**

**1)You'll find out where Trapper is at the very beginning of the story.**

**2)No, Vicky will NOT fall for anyone, that is unless, people want her to. If that's so, then you will have to tell me.**

**I luv getting emails! Feel free to email me! Ideas still welcome!**

**Now, on with the story! Be prepared for language and insanity. You have been warned!**

**Quote of the Day:**

_**P.A: **Due to conditions beyond our control, we regret to inform you that lunch will now be served._

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**What The Hell Is Going On?**

**Chapter 3**

**More explanations, A food fight, and one crazy Granny**

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I tried to find some kind of explanation in my head but I constantly drew up blanks. It was then I noticed that Trapper (THE Trapper!!) was being unusually quiet. I looked over at him and saw why. He was busy stuffing his face with my Granny's cookin' (A/N: There ya go!).

But then, so was everyone else. I hadn't noticed, but everyone had piled their plates up with tons of Granny's chicken and cornbread and mash potatoes and stuff. It was like they hadn't eaten in months.

Then again, I reminded myself that the only thing they had been eating was the food served at the unit, which was never praised highly (not counting very few occasions).

And now everyone was staring at me, waiting for an explanation. I suddenly thought about lying. Maybe I could say. . . No, that wouldn't work. . . Lying wouldn't be any good.

Besides, the truth is always best, right?

Right?

I was about to start explaining, when I noticed something very frightening.

There was a fly, on the bowl of mashed potatoes.

Now, your probably thinking, 'What the fuck? Why the hell should you be scared of a damn fly?' but remember back to when I explained how Granny dressed in khaki hunting.

Remember now?

"_**DUCK AND COVER!**_" I shouted. I grabbed my plate and shoved my chair as far away from the table as I could. I knew what was gonna happen.

For a split second, the MASH gang looked at me like I had gone nuts.

Then came the distinct call of the She-Thing (aka Granny).

"_**KI-KI-KI-KIIIIIIIIIIIIYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!**_" Granny screeched as she came down from out of know where (khaki hunting clothes and all), wielding her almighty. . . fly swatter.

"_**DIE, DEMON LION! YOU WICKED SPAWN OF SATAN!**_" My grandmother roared as she wacked furiously at the mash potatoes, the fly long gone.

And this whole time, I'm over there thinking, Why me? Why did God hate me so much? What had I done that was so wrong?

"Oh dear. . ." Father Mulchay murmured as he (and everyone else) watched in horrified fascination as the little, completely mad woman that was my grandmother furiously spray potatoes everywhere.

**(A/N: At this point, the author would like to say that she is sincerely sorry if the 'wicked spawn of satan' part offended anyone. It was just something Vicky's grandmother would say.)**

I motioned for everyone to follow me, and we exited the now quickly soiling dining room (I noticed that most of them brought their plates along.). I led them to the living room, where Pop was sitting in his recliner, as predicted, reading the paper.

"Ethel have another looney-attack?" He asked without looking up. "Yup," I mumbled. I turned to our guest with a forced smile on.

"Please, do take a seat, make yourself at home!" I said through gritted teeth. Everyone sat on either the worn out couch or the torn leather loveseat. To say the least, they appeared to be rather squished (and Ferret Face looked disgusted—he was sandwiched between Klinger and Radar. They were enlisted men, after all.)

Since I had no where else to sit, I sat cross legged on the floor. I scratched nervously at the back of my head.

"So. . . uh. . . Guess you want a explanation now, huh?" I asked meekly. Everyone nodded.

We heard a distinct, "_**KIIIIIIIYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!**_" and a very wet sounding splat. I winced.

"Right," I started. "Well. . ." I looked around the room desperately. I saw the VCR. I smiled.

"Be right back, don't move a muscle!" I called over my shoulder as I jumped up and ran to my room. I grabbed a tape which I had recorded several of the first MASH episodes, and ran downstairs (when I passed the kitchen, Granny called "Look out for lions, Kiara!" Often when she has these fits, she changes my name.).

When I reentered the room, I immediately noticed that Hawkeye and Trapper were being their usual goofy selves—apparently, when I had said, 'Don't move a muscle', they took it literally.

Hawkeye was sitting with his fork half way into his mouth, while Trapper was bending over his plate, neither moving.

"Smart alecks. . ." I muttered. They laughed and went back to eating. Pop grunted and turned to the next page of his paper. I cleared my throat, getting the MASH gang's attention.

"Well," I began. "I can't exactly explain it, since I'll probably end up confusing you even more, so instead, I'll show you how I know who you are."

I went over and popped the video in. I fast forwarded through the credits and stuff (blocking the TV from their view with my body). Then I turned to them.

"Be prepared for a big time shock," I warned grimly. I hit play, and backed away. At first, there was complete silence. Eventually, Pop left, muttering something about constipation, but I think he was too scared to see (or hear) their reactions.

About the time the first episode was halfway over, Henry muttered quietly, "Does this mean what I think it means?"

I stood and stopped the tape, then turned to him. I chose my words carefully.

"Well. . . If you think this means that you guys are characters of a TV show, a _GOOD_ TV show may I add, then yeah, it means what you think it means, Henry."

"Garbage," Frank muttered. I turned to him, eyes flashing (I think, I don't really know if my eyes flash, but I like the expression).

"Oh yeah? Oh yeah? Well how 'bout this, Ferret Face?! I can prove to you that it's a TV show!" I snapped. I motioned for them to follow me. They did so, and while I led them down the hall and into the game room (where my Playstation, computer, and other beloved things were), I muttered quite a few obscene things under my breath.

"_Stupid, mother fucking, ass wipe. . ._"

"What did you say?!" Frank all but screamed.

"None of your business, bub!" I shouted back. I shoved the game room door open and made a bee line straight for the computer.

"What's that?" Margaret asked, her voice snappy.

"It's a computer. One of the smartest things mankind ever created, save the Playstation." I muttered, accessing the internet.

"Playstation?" Father Mulchay asked, puzzled.

"A game machine that rots my brain," I muttered absently. I typed in MASH on the computer and clicked search. A bunch of sites came up, and I clicked on one that looked promising. Sure enough, it had a bunch of good pictures of merchandise on MASH.

I turned to everyone, smiling triumphantly.

"I give you proof!" I said extravagantly, moving away so they could see the screen.

"Wow. . . "Radar gasped.

"Holy Toledo!" Klinger exclaimed.

"Amazing. . ." Father Mulchay breathed.

Yep. I think they believed me. I looked at everyone else. Henry was just shaking his head, muttering about needing a belt, and Trapper and Hawkeye. . . were no where near the computer and were instead _MESSING WITH MY PLAYSTATION!!!!!!!!_

"_**DON'T DO THAT!!!**_" I thundered. They jumped away. I rushed over to check if my baby was hurt.

"What is that?" Hawkeye asked, looking confused.

"It's my Playstation. You know how you two love drinking so much?"

They nodded.

"Well, I love this thing just as much you two love drinking. . . maybe more! Don't touch this unless I'm watching you two!" I said sternly.

"I still don't believe this," Frank's annoying voice somehow made my migraine worse than it already was. I groaned.

"Oh, Frank, just shut up!" I snapped.

"You watch your mouth!" Margaret yelled at me.

"Don't tell me what to do woman! You ain't my momma!" I screamed back.

"Is there any trouble over here?" the good Father asked, looking worried.

"_**EVERYTHING'S FINE!!!!!!!!!**_" We both shouted at him.

I rubbed my temples. I needed sleep. That, or some strong-as-hell headache medicine. My paper could wait.

"Alright," I sighed. "In the hallway, there's a closet. Inside, there's blankets, pillows and things. You can sleep anywhere, the living room the kitchen, a spare bedroom, hell—sorry Father—you can sleep in the bathroom for all I care! But you cannot, I repeat, CANNOT sleep in my room. You do and I'll make sure none of you can have children! Good night!"

And with that, I stormed up to my bedroom, where I collapsed and fell asleep in 10 seconds.

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**'NOT IN VICKY'S POV'**

"There is something seriously wrong with that girl," Henry said as soon as Vicky left.

"No, she's just extremely worn out." A deep, gravelly voice rumbled.

Everyone jumped. They turned and saw it was Vicky's grandfather, Mortimer.

"No, she's crazy!" Frank spat. Mortimer eyed him sternly.

"Watch your mouth boy." Mortimer hissed. "You wait. Tomorrow she'll be different. How would you react when a bunch of TV characters are dropped into your house?" With that, he turned and walked away.

"He's got a point you know," Father Mulchay said eventually. Henry merely shook his head.

"We'll see, we'll see. . . "he muttered. And with that, everyone exited the room to get blankets and to go to sleep.

It had, after all, been a long and unusual day.

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**Yay! Done! Review and tell me what you think!**


	4. Hawkeye plays The Sims

**Thanks for the reviews! I feel so inspired to write! Thanx!**

_**Disclaimer: Here's a poem:  
**_

_**Roses are red,  
**_ _**Violets are blue,  
**_ _**Me don't own nuttin',  
**_ _**SO YOU NO SUE!!!  
**_

**(Also, I do not own The Sims, though I do have the games at home.)**

**Quote of the Day: **

_**Henry: **Jeep. Tent. Boom!_

**What The Hell Is Going On?**

**Chapter 4**

**Hawkeye Plays The Sims**

**  
**

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The next morning, I found myself sick. Sneezing, stuffed nose, and a bad cough. So, fortunately, I didn't have to go to school that day. 

Unfortunately, that left me at the hands of the 4077th.

Granny had to go out and play bingo with her friends, and Pop had an all- day auction he wanted to attend. And since our 'guests' are doctors, they left me in their care.

Good God, someone save me.

So, completely ignoring Frank's and Margaret's orders to go straight up to bed, I instead took a blanket and a bunch of pillows up to the game room, placed everything on the couch, and planned to spend my day curled up in a ball playing The Sims Bustin' Out.

Hawkeye and Trapper decided to join me.

"What's up kiddo?" Hawk asked when he stepped into the room.

"**_ACHOOOOO_!!**" was my response.

"How ya feelin'?" Trapper asked.

I blew my nose with a tissue and sighed.

"Swell. Absolutely swell. Like a million bucks." I said sarcastically. They smiled a little.

"Margaret will be up here in a little while with some chicken soup," Hawkeye informed me. I pulled a face.

"I hate chicken soup," I grumbled, pouting.

"Tough," Trap smirked. I crossed my eyes at him.

"You're not so tough when you're sick," Trapper laughed.

I grumbled some more.

"What's this?" Hawkeye suddenly asked. I realized he was talking about the game.

I explained to them about the Playstation 2 and The Sims. After that, THEY wanted to play. I groaned, but let them each make their own family.

Hawkeye, naturally, made himself. It actually looked pretty much like him. But then he couldn't decide which woman he wanted to end up with—Nurse Baker, Nurse Able, or Nurse Bigelow.

So he made all three.

Trapper also made himself, and amazingly, made his wife—while explaining that Hawkeye took all the good ones, but I knew better.

After flipping a coin, Hawkeye got to go first.

I put in the cheats, and showed him how to build his house. He made a mansion, with an indoor pool and everything.

After he bought his junk, he made ALL three women fall in love with them, which made the three women hate each other.

"That is so typical of you," I laughed as Nurse Able slapped Nurse Bigelow for French kissing Hawkeye, who was looking like he was having the time of his life.

"It's every man's dream to have this happen," he laughed as Nurse Baker started kissing him.

The call of nature eventually came, so I ran to the bathroom (I also threw up a little. . . Poor me. . .). But when I was making my way back, Frank and Margaret stopped me and forced me to eat chicken soup. Yuck.

After that horrendous event, I went back up to the game room. I paused outside the door. I heard a lot of laughter coming from inside. That couldn't mean anything good.

I walked inside. As soon as I saw what was on the screen, I started howling.

"**WHAT THE HELL DID YOU _DO_ HAWKEYE?!!**" I screamed at him.

You see, for some surprising reason, the Hawkeye-Sim was taking care of two babies (A/N: I know that in the playstation game you can only have four people in a household but lets pretend you can have more, OK?).

And Nurse Baker and Nurse Bigelow were in bed together. And Nurse Able was being chased around the house by a mutant.

"Um. . . It was an accident?" Hawkeye said meekly as Trapper fell off the couch, laughing hysterically. I slapped my palm to my head.

Suddenly Nurse Baker got out of bed (with her skimpy clothes on, Hawkeye had a blast dressing them up), walked up to Hawkeye, and kissed him. The little message, "Do you want to have a baby?" appeared. Hawkeye, eyes sparkling, hit yes.

"Congratulations! It's a girl," appeared on the screen. I collapsed on the couch and sighed.

"So that's two boys and one girl," Trapper gasped as he picked himself up.

Hawkeye nodded happily.

"What are the boys named?" I asked.

"Hawkeye Jr. and Trapper Jr.," Trapper said. I giggled.

"What'll you name her?" I asked, wrapping the blanket around myself. 

Hawk smiled (it was obvious he was having the time of his life with the game) and typed in, "Vicky".

I was touched.

"My turn!" Trapper sang before I could thank Hawk. I groaned. This was gonna be _HELL._

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**Sorry the chapter's so short! Promise the next one will be longer! Next chapter features Trapper's turn with playing the Sims. Hope ya liked this one! And remember:**

**Reviews good compliments and ideas Happy author Rapid updates!**

**See ya!**


	5. Trapper plays The Sims

**Wow. . . I got 30 reviews. . . YOU'VE ALL MADE ME SO HAPPY! THANK YOU SO MUCH!!**

**I dedicate this chapter to Hawkeye's Martini, Romancer-4-ever, bluesparkle123, Trivette Lover Heather, and melbo18, who've stuck with my story no matter what. Thanks you guys!**

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**Disclaimer:** **Look, I'm only 14 years old! MASH was made in the 70's! I CANNOT POSSIBLY OWN IT!. . . No matter how much I want to. . . I only own Vicky, her grandparents, and her friends. . .**

**Quote of the Day:**

_-discussing the bible-_****

_**Trapper: **I peeked at the end, Frank. The devil did it._

**What The Hell Is Going On?**

**Chapter 5 (gasp! I made it this far!)**

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I expected Trapper to make him and his wife make-out nonstop (Hawkeye made him and Nurse Able do that for most of his time). But nope. Instead, he created a NEW family.

He put the last name as MASH, then created Father Mulchay, Frank, Margaret, Radar, Henry, Klinger, Hawkeye, and himself, all looking almost exactly like the people they were representing. Trapper built the house, got the junk, and let the fun begin.

At first, Trapper seemed to be keeping himself clean, merely getting everyone to be friends with one another. Suddenly, I felt nauseated. I ran to the bathroom and chucked up all that chicken noodle soup, as well as all my lunches from the last school year.

Needless to say, I stayed in there for awhile.

* * *

When I finally stopped puking, I stumbled and slipped to the medicine cabinet in the kitchen. I pulled out some Aspirin and swallowed three pills. Then I went back to the room.

As soon as I entered and saw the screen, I went ballistic.

"_**TRAPPER JOHN!!!**_" I roared, "**_WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?!!!!!"_**

To say the least, the household was a mess. Poor Father Mulchay-Sim was trapped in a room that was on fire and freaking out, Margaret-Sim was being kissed by Hawkeye-Sim, Trapper-Sim was in his hot tub talking to Nurses Able, Baker, and Bigelow, who probably visited from his house.

I saw a headstone out in the yard and didn't see Frank-Sim anywhere, so I assumed that Trapper killed him. Klinger-Sim (in the girliest outfit we could find) was French-kissing with the _ROBOT_, and Henry-Sim was 'playing' in the lovebed with Radar. And there were about five baby carriages.

Hawkeye and Trapper, who were laughing hysterically, merely laughed harder. I gave up trying to stay mad after five minutes and joined in with laughing.

About ten minutes later, Trapper and Hawkeye had to use the bathroom from laughing so much. When they left, I smiled evilly.

My turn.

* * *

"_**VICTORIA!! WHAT DID YOU DO?!!**_" Hawkeye and Trapper screamed simultaneously when they saw who I had in the lovebed. I smiled innocently.

"I always thought you two would make I cute couple," I said sweetly as Hawkeye-Sim and Trapper-Sim emerged from the covers of the lovebed.

I spent the next 10 minutes being chased around the house by them, then spent the next 6 minutes being tickled to death by them.

True, the results of our Sim adventures for me was a high fever and a bad cough, but that was ok. I had fun with Trapper and Hawkeye, two of my favorite characters.

* * *

**Ok, please review! Talk to you later! Hope ya liked! Thanks for the reviews!**

**Now go down to the purple button and leave a niiiiiiiiiiice little note for me!**


	6. Uhoh, BUSTED!

**You like me still! Thank you so much! I love you all! I went to the yearly Peach Festival in Gilbert today, so here you go! Candy and Peaches! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Is this still necessary? I DO NOT OWN MASH! JUST VICKY AND HER GRANDPARENTS, OK?!**

**Quote of the Day:**

_**Klinger: **If anything happens, bury me in the blue chiffon!_

**What The Hell Is Going On? **

Chapter 6

Uhoh, BUSTED!!

* * *

That night, Trapper, Hawkeye, and I were still playing the Sims. Hawkeye had 6 kids, and 3 adopted kids. But I think he was starting to get the gist that it was bad to have that many kids.

For some reason (I think it was a glitch in the game) Father Mulchay was not dead yet, and still doing some weird kinda dance while he was on fire. Trapper-Sim was now in bed with Margaret, Hawkeye was running around trying to feed all the baby's at once, and Frank's ghost was walking around the house and moaning.

Henry-Sim was French-kissing with Radar-Sim, and Klinger-Sim was in the second lovebed with the robot (somehow).

Oh, I forgot to mention, there's been a new member added: Vicky-Sim.

It's a child, yes (it was the first baby Hawk had), but that was ok. Vicky- Sim was studying on her computer. I think she was the only sane Sim there.

The three of us were so busy laughing that we didn't hear anyone enter the room, until. . .

**(A/N: the author would like to inform to the readers that Hawkeye and Trapper, during their bathroom break, told everyone else what they were doing. Also, remember that these Sims look extraordinarily like the people they're representing.)**

"_**PIERCE!! MCINTYRE! VICTORIA!!!!**_"

The three of us turned and saw a very angry Margaret (I don't think she liked the fact that she was in bed with Trapper) and a very freaked-out looking Frank, watching his Ghost-Sim self wander around the house.

Margaret immediately started beating Trapper with a broom, and Frank sat down and burst into tears, because we (well, Hawk and Trap, anyway) killed him.

That sent Hawk and me howling again.

Soon, all the commotion attracted the attention of everyone else, and soon, the place was in complete mayhem. Henry started screaming at us when he saw his Sim self kissing Radar-Sim.

Radar started screaming and covering his face with his hat when he saw that, the poor father watched in a horrified/fascinated daze as his Sim self burned to death.

Klinger looked positively livid when he saw his Sim self 'playing' in bed with the robot (it came out, but Hawkeye made them go back in).

And the whole time, Hawkeye and I merely sat on the couch and laughed.

At supper that night, Trapper was sulking over his wounds, while Hawkeye and I had to keep leaving the room every five minutes to regain our composure because we kept laughing so much. Everyone (excluding Pop and Granny) kept giving us dirty looks.

Then **IT **happened.

I was taking a bite from my cornbread when Granny announced, "Vicky sweetie, your cousin Mark is coming over."

I coughed and choked.

Hawkeye assisted me by pounding on my back.

"_M-mark_?!" I squeaked when I got my breath back.

Let me tell you two facts about my cousin Mark:

He's gay.

And he's a male super model.

Now, I love Mark, yes I do, but he just scares the shit outta me sometimes. He's got long brown hair and a lean body. He's very handsome.

But he acts girlish.

"Yes, Mark." Granny said, nodding and smiling.

"When will he be here?" I moaned.

Mark would be here in two days.

That night, looking up at the ceiling, an evil plan came into my mind.

Mark _**LOVED**_ patriotic men.

Frank was _**VERY**_ patriotic. **_AND _**he was a major. I laughed evilly.

Ten minutes later, I fell asleep.

* * *

**Ok, done! Sorry this chapter is so short. Ideas welcome! See ya! Don't forget to review!!!!!**


	7. The Sleepover Part 1

**Yay! People still love me! Ok, here's the 7th chapter!  
**

**Disclaimer: Nope, don't own it.**

**Quote of the Day:**

_**Hawkeye (overwhelmed with work): **My kingdom for an intelligent octopus!_

**What The Hell Is Going On?  
**

**Chapter 7**

**The Sleepover Part 1**

* * *

The next morning, which was a beautiful Saturday, I wasn't as sick, and I found myself back in the game room (I was now dressed in a white tank top and black bicycling shorts), only this time I was playing Final Fantasy 10. 

Well, not really playing. More like drooling over Tidus. He may be stupid, but he was damn _HOT!_

Hawkeye and Trapper were over in the corner, on the computer, reading fanfictions on They had the most horrified expressions on their faces, most likely from all the slash stories.

I think the whole 'Hawkeye-Sim-and-Trapper-Sim-in-bed-together' thing kinda made them a little paranoid.

Every once in awhile, they would ask questions like, "Who's BJ?" or, "Who's Potter?" and "What do they mean, Klinger stopped wearing dresses?!!"

I merely smiled mysteriously.

Then Hawkeye and Trapper got an idea. They decided that they wanted to join and write their own stories.

I (at that moment, I had been taking a sip of coke) snorted coke out of my nose and started choking.

"Come again?" I gasped.

"We wanna join!" they whined.

I tried arguing, but it was no use. They wanted to join.

I let them use my e-mail. What were their pennames?

Hawkeye: LoverofWomen216

Trapper: PrankMasterofKorea369

Me?:. . . Wouldn't YOU like to know?

Trapper started to type--- well, actually he pushed the buttons with his finger, since he didn't know how to type. He wrote a story about Ferret Face.

It was called, _Ferret Face's Worst Day_.

I'm pretty sure you can guess what it's about.

Hawkeye wasn't sure what he wanted to write about, so he watched me 'play' FFX. That's when I got a phone call.

From my friend, Cindy.

I'd forgotten that every Saturday, we spent the night at each other's houses with a few of our other girlfriends. Today, it was Cindy's turn to spend the night at my house.

Shit.

"Hey, Cindy," I said when I got the phone. "What's up?"

My eyes widened.

"Oh, the sleepover!"

"No, of course it's still on, but. . ."

"No, Mark's not here, but he'll be here in a few days. . ."

"_Of course_ there's nothing wrong!"

"Yeah, I know. . ."

"Sorry, I was sick. . ."

"How 'bout 5:00?"

"I have a few, um, relatives visiting, so. . ."

"Alright girl. . . See ya then."

I turned to the boys. "I'm having a sleepover tonight—and YOU guys are the guests of honor."

* * *

Around 5:00, the girls arrived. There was Cindy, brown-haired, green-eyed Annabelle, platinum blonde-haired, blue-eyed Brittany, black-haired, hazel- eyed Jenny, and Jess, our friend who came from the Philippines when she was a baby.

We exchanged hugs, and then Margaret came in. (For the record, she was unhappy about this sleepover because she thought I was still to sick, but I argued that I'd be breakin' a tradition.)

"Hey, Vicky, this a relative?" Jenny asked, pointing to Hot Lips.

I took a breath. Lies, don't fail me now!

"Uh, yeah, everyone! This is my Aunt Maggie!" I said cheerfully (she glared at me murderously).

Margaret was immediately pulled into and array of hugs and compliments, because we treat each other's family like our own.

"Oh, it's so nice to meet you!"

"I love your hair!"

"How old are you? 24, 25? You can't possibly be old enough to be Vicky's _aunt_!"

"You look very nice in that sweater!"

Margaret looked slightly dazed and very roughed up when she emerged. I dragged my friends into the living room, where the rest of the MASH crew were, doing what most of them did best—drinking.

"Everybody, I want you to meet my friends" I said, then introduced everyone, pointing to them at turn. "This is Cindy, that's Annabelle. . . Um, Brittany, Jess, and that's Jenny!"

"Hi!" the girls chorused, and they started giggling. Can you blame them? The males of the MASH crew are pretty good looking for their age—except Frank, of course.

I started introducing my family:

"Um. . . This is my Uncle Ben, but I call him Hawkeye, and this is his brother, um, Uncle John, but I call him Trapper. . . This is my other Uncle, Henry, my second cousin that I call Father Mulchay, 'cause he's a priest. . . That's my not so favorite Uncle Frank, he's the one scowling. . . You've met Aunt Maggie, and then there's—"

I was interrupted because the girls found Radar. They went ballistic.

"_**AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!**_" the girls screamed. They pulled him over to the couch and sat around him. Here were their comments:

"He's _**SO**_ cute!"

"What's your name cutie?"

"What's his name, Vick?"

"_**I LOVE YOUR GLASSES!**_"

"Where've you been hiding?"

"How old are you?"

"Are you single?"

"_**GOD YOU'RE HOT!**_"

_Poor Radar. . ._

* * *

**I'll post the next part of the sleepover later. I've got work to do. Hope ya liked this chapter! See ya!**


	8. The Sleepover Part 2

**Disclaimer: Nope, don't own MASH.**

**Quote of the Day:**

**-B.J's early impressions on war-**

_**B.J: **I think I hate this._

**The Sleepover Part 2**

**Chapter 8 (smiles happily**)

**The Sleepover Part 2**

  


* * *

Poor, poor Radar. . . 

My friends were all over him, drooling. I was concerned about his blood pressure. I mean, his face was impossibly red.

"Um, that's my cousin Walter, but everyone calls him Radar," I said, watching Jess try on his glasses. Poor Radar was too busy mumbling and stuttering. The rest of my 'family' was in the background rolling on the floor, clutching their sides and howling.

Then Klinger came in, wearing his shiny red dancing dress and carrying a large red handbag.

The girls saw him immediately and fell silent. I winced, and scooted behind Hawkeye, who gave me a weird look.

All hell was about to break loose. . .

"_**OH MY GOD, YOU POOR WOMAN!**_" Annabelle (the beauty of our group, mind you) screamed. At first I was shocked, but that shock quickly turned into intense amusement and I almost burst out laughing.

Immediately, the girls jumped from the couch and over to Klinger, talking about, well, this is what they were saying:

"Anna, look at all this hair! If I didn't know better, I'd say _she_ was a _he_!"

"We'll just have to give her a _super_ waxing then!"

"Don't you wear make-up? It'll belittle the appearance of your nose!"

"Try wearing black, it's very slimming!"

"No, you're definetly _**NOT**_ a fire engine red. Nope, you're definetly a _coral_. Yep, a coral!"

"Try wearing plaids, it'll make your bulky thighs less appearing."

"No, _stripes_ are better! Wear stripes!"

"Black'll do the trick, ladies!"

"But what if she has dandruff? Black'll make the flakes more appearing!"

"That's what Head'n'Shoulders is for! Duh!"

"_**GOD YOUR HANDS ARE CALLOUSED! HAVEN'T YOU HEARD OF LOTION?!!**"_

"Was God pissed at your parents or something to make you so. . . so. . ."

"Ugly, Jess?"

"Now, that's just mean Jen. . . But yeah, ugly."

"_**YOU POOR THING, YOU'RE GROWING A BEARD!**_"

"_**OH. MY. GOD. SHE IS?!!**_"

"Didn't God have any mercy on you?"

"Oh, you poor thing. . ."

"You said a mouthful, Cindy. . ."

"I know, Anna. . ."

Meanwhile, I was leaning on Hawkeye for support, clutching my sides with concealed laughter. Hawkeye was leaning on Trapper, who was leaning on Henry, who was leaning against the wall. The three of them had their fists jammed into their mouths, tears in their eyes.

Klinger did not look happy.

I decided to pipe up.

"Um, guys. . . That's my _**UNCLE**_ Klinger."

The girls stopped. They turned slowly to me, horrified expressions on their faces.

"Uncle, Vicky? Did you say **_UNCLE_?**" Cindy asked, her eyes wide.

I nodded. "Yep. _Uncle_ Klinger."

"Oh. . ." the girls said together. They began mumbling a lot of apologies, brushing off Klinger's dress, their faces beet red.

"Nice dress," Jess offered lamely. Klinger glared.

"Pizza for supper! Stove's busted!" Granny called.

"_**YAHOO!**_" all us girls screamed.

Now there was only one thing left to decide; what movie were we going to watch?

* * *

**SORRY! I KNOW IT'S SHORT, BUT I'M HAVING WRITER'S BLOCK! IDEAS WELCOME, AND I'LL UPDATE AS SOON AS I CAN! Part 3 will come soon.**


	9. The Sleepover Part 3

**Disclaimer: Nope, don't own it!**

**Quote of the Day:**

_**B.J: **This is monotonous, isn't it?_

**What The Hell Is Going On?**

**The Sleepover Part 3**

_

* * *

_

Before we could pick the movie, we had to change into our PJ's and get the pizza. The girls and I went up the stairs. The girls changed in one of the spare bedrooms, while I trudged up to my room (aka the attic). 

Now, I personally like my room. Sure the only thing that lights it up is my lamp, but it's not so bad. The walls are painted a nice dark blue color, and my sheets and bedspread have little white dragons and white Japanese signs on them on a black background (however, the sheets are white and the signs and dragons on them are black).

I also have my own computer up there, my dresser, my make-table (which is small, but kinda pulls the room together), and a bunch of anime posters in there too.

When I opened the door, I saw that a bunch of folded clothes were on my bed. I got giddy, because that meant that my favorite pajamas were in there. The contained a black tank-top with a silver dragon on them with silver Japanese signs that meant honor and loyalty on either side of it, and the pants had silver Japanese signs on them that meant honor, loyalty, bravery and love on them.

I was pulling my t-shirt off when Klinger popped his head in.

"_**KLINGER!**_" I screamed when I saw him, pulling my shirt down quickly.

"_Sorry!_" he yelped, quickly retreating. I sighed, and smoothed my shirt. I went and opened the door to see a very embarrassed Klinger and a laughing Hawkeye beside a laughing Trapper, all three leaning against the wall.

"What do ya need?" I asked, my face heating up a little.

"Um, can we have some night clothes?" Klinger mumbled, still highly embarrassed. I blinked, then realized what they meant.

"OH! Um, yeah. . . It's probably not too comfortable sleeping in your clothes and stuff, huh?" I asked, my blush intensifying because of my stupidity.

"Stupid me!" I added, lightly punching the side of my head.

I got all the MASH people together and led them to my parent's bedroom, the one they used when they visited. They still had some clothes and stuff there. I swallowed hard so that I wouldn't cry.

"All right, um. . . There are some clothes in the closet and stuff. . . Um, the men's clothes may be a little bit big cause. . . Well, my dad was a big guy. . ." I mumbled.

"Was?" I heard Margaret (ever the nosy one) ask.

"My parents are _dead_. Y'know, bye-bye." I snapped. I froze when I realized how mean I sounded.

"Um, sorry." I mumbled, then rushed out. I went back to my room, and changed quickly into my pajamas, listening to Margaret scream at all the men to go change somewhere else. Then it changed to her screaming at Hawkeye and Trapper.

I laughed, and pulled on my lion-slippers (you know, those slippers that have the little animal heads on them).

I walked over to my closet and pulled out my black sleeping bag (one that had a huge silver wolf that appeared to be running down the front), and grabbed my hair brush and some other hair stuff, then headed downstairs to the living room.

And do you know what was happening down there? No, of course you don't. You weren't there. Well, I'll tell you. Klinger was giving the girls clothes advice (_**A/N: Thank you Kooshball for giving me that idea!**_).

"And don't _EVER_ wear yellow with pink. Those colors _**DON'T**_ go together. . ." Klinger was saying.

Frank and Margaret looked thoroughly disgusted, but everyone else (in the MASH crew I mean, save for Klinger) were rolling on the ground laughing.

I cleared my throat. Everyone turned to me, and the girls immediately started blabbering. . . well, this:

"Vicky, you are _sooooo_ lucky!"

"Yeah, you've got, like, the _coolest_ family!"

"A cute cousin. . ."

"An uncle who's a genius on fashion. . ."

"Two hilarious uncles. . ."

"A beautiful aunt. . ." (No, none of the girls are gay, they're just saying that to be nice. . .)

"A cool priest cousin. . ."

"_**YOU ARE SO LUCKY!**_"

"God, I wish I was you. . ."

I blushed, rubbing the back of my head.

"Girls, what do you want on your pizza girls?" Granny called from the kitchen.

Our responses:

"**_PEPPERONI!_**"

"**_CHEESE!_**"

"**_HAWAIIAN!_**"

"**_BACON AND ONION!_**"

"**_MEAT LOVERS!_**"

"**_ALL THE ABOVE!_**" (That one was from me, by the way.)

Then it was time for our next tradition; watch American Idol while we did each other's hair. While the men (and my grandfather, who just got back from tending the animals) drank gin, we women (including Klinger) did each other's hair.

I did Jess's, Jen (who had Japanese blood in her) did mine, Klinger did Jen's, Annabelle did Klinger's, Brittany did Annabelle's, and Cindy did Brittany's. Jess did Margaret's.

As a result, Jess's hair was in two French braids, Margaret's was in a nice bun on top of her head, Annabelle's was in a braid that circled around her head, Jen's was three braids that made up another braid, and Brittany's was in corn-rows.

My hair was in two buns on top of my head on either side of it.

The men. . . Well, they were still drinking, and thankfully, not drunk. That could result into some very bad things.

The pizza arrived. We grabbed the boxes and dragged them over to the coffee table.

And then it was time for the movie.

(**_A/N: Alright, I appreciate all of you who gave me suggestions, but I've never seen the Matrix or any rocky movies, and I haven't seen Grease since I was seven, so that was. . . Seven years ago. Sorry!_**)

I pulled out the _Blair Witch Project_. Now, people usually say that it isn't that scary, but for some reason, it scares us.

And I hoped that it would seriously scare us tonight, especially because it was raining and lightning now.

We laid our sleeping bags out (I had told the MASH crew to get some out of the closet, the girls didn't seem to mind that my 'family' would be hanging out with us).

I turned to my 'family', a serious expression on my face.

"This is a true story, with real footage. I hope you can handle it." I said seriously. I winked at my friends and popped it in, fast forwarding until it started. Then we settled around and started munching on our pizza.

* * *

**So, whatcha think? What will happen? How will the MASH crew react to the movie? Why am I blabbering? Well, please review and tell me what ya think!**


	10. OPERATION: FRANKIE GOT FINGERED Part 1

**I am so sorry! I know I haven't updated for a long time, but school was just piling up on me! However, now that it's Winter Break, I can get back to writing! Everybody rejoice!**

**IMPORTANT NOTE: There's a special thanks for people that have helped me with the fic so far. Don't freak out, this isn't the end, we still have a ways to go.**

* * *

**Disclaimer: No, I still do not own MASH.**

**Quote of the Day:**

_**Radar: **My father didn't have me till he was sixty-three. The first time we played peek-a-boo he had a stroke._

**Chapter 10 (IT'S A MIRACLE! I ACTUALLY MADE IT TO CHAPTER 10 ON A STORY! GOD IS SMILING DOWN UPON ME!!!!)**

**All Hell Breaks Loose Part 1**

* * *

I gripped my pillow tightly to my chest, watching the screen with wide eyes asthe film student's tentwas suddenly attacked from the outside, thus freaking the 3students out. It freaked out everyone in my living room out as well.

"Holy moly. . ." I heard Radar whisper. Either the movie was seriously scaring him, or he just realized that all of my friends were clinging to him like magnets to a refrigerator.

"Jesus, they let you kids watch these things?" I heard Trapper murmur from beside me. "We aren't that young," I mumbled. I was sandwiched between him and Hawkeye, Frank and Margaret were gripping each other as if the world was about to end, Henry and Klinger were hiding behind the same blanket, Radar had his eyes squeezed shut tightly, and Father Mulchay was mumbling something that sounded like a prayer from under his blanket.

Suddenly, the college girl (whose name escapes me) in the movie suddenly screamed, "**_WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?! WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!_**"

Needless to say, that freaked everyone out—and it didn't help that the thunderstorm outside had gotten so bad that the wind was howling.

Hawkeye and Trapper screamed and grabbed each other—unfortunately, since I was between them, I was in the middle of their embrace. Radar and the girls all screamed, and then the girls yanked him down—of course, I'm not really sure they were really scared in the first place.

Frank got so scared he high-tailed it out of the room, leaving Margaret to bodily attach herself to Klinger. Henry dove under the blanket that Father Mulchay was cowering under.

Outside, thunder crashed. I think God had fallen off of his throne and was rolling around heaven laughing maniacally at the position I was caught in.

* * *

Many minutes later, Hawkeye, Trapper, and I were all clutching the same pillow, watching the college girl open the package that was filled with her missing friends teeth. Frank was still missing—I think her ran up to the bathroom or something. Radar was whimpering—I couldn't tell if he was whimpering with fear of the movie or pain from having all of my friends piled on top of him, like he was a football player with the ball and the girls were the opposing tacklers.

Klinger—now sporting a nice red handprint on his left cheek after Margaret discovered him hugging her—was camping out with the good Father and Henry under the blanket. Margaret was gripping the back of my shoulders rather painfully and peeking out from behind.

The rain outside continued to poor down mercilessly. On the TV, the girl screamed, and for some reason, I had the urge to scream with her.

* * *

I'm still not sure how, but we made it through both the movie and the night in one piece, and I soon found myself bidding my friends adieu.

"I love you too," I said sarcastically as I watched my friends cling to Radar, sobbing.

"Oh! Uh, yeah, love ya girl," Cindy said quickly, reluctantly pulling herself off of Radar. "Yeah, great party!" Brittany added, also pulling away. The rest of them pulled away as well.

"Is Radar—er, and the rest of your cool family gonna be here next time?" Jen asked. I fidgeted.

"Er, maybe. It sorta depends, you know?" I said.

And so, finally, my friends left—but not without hugging Radar about a million more times and asking Klinger whether or not you should wear green with pink or yellow with orange.

"Well, that was _fun_," I sighed as I collapsed onto the couch.

"Thank heavens those noisy girls are gone," Frank said as he sat in Pop's chair.

One of my eye's twitched—earlier that morning, Frank and I had been the only two up and he was complaining to me about every single one of their faults, from the pitches of their voices down to the very last zit on Brittany's chin.

"Frank, if you don't quit bad-mouthing my friends, I'm gonna take my foot and shove it so far up your ass that the water in my knee will quench your thirst!" I hissed. Hawkeye and Trapper snorted while Frank sulked.

Granny came in through the back door, carrying freshly cleaned sheets from the basement—the entrance to the basement is on the side of the house, so there's no other way to get in.

"What's with the sheets?" I asked/yawned, rubbing the back of my head.

"Mark is visiting for the week, remember?" Granny reminded.

I groaned as she walked back upstairs, humming. For a minute, I was sulky, watching Hawkeye and Trapper sip at their glasses of gin.

Then I remembered my little plan.

"_He he he he. . ._" I chuckled evilly. Both surgeons looked at me, but didn't say anything. I ignored them and continued to giggle. "_He he he he he he he. . ._"

"_'He he he'_. . . You're giving me the creeps!" Hawkeye said loudly, breaking into my thoughts. "Huh?" I said, looking up and blinking stupidly.

"What's the evil plan today kid?" Trapper asked, an evil glint in his eye. Hawkeye's ears literally perked up as soon as he heard the words "evil plan".

I motioned for them to come closer. Once they were close enough, I whispered, "Ok, so you know how my cousin Mark is coming over, right? Well, there are two things you should know about him—a), he's gay, and b) he absolutely _**LOVES**_ patriotic men." I watched their faces closely. Their eyes were shining.

"Frank is _**VERY**_ patriotic," Trapper said, his voice sounding a bit odd. I nodded.

"_He he he he he he he he he he. . ._" Hawkeye said, copying what I did earlier.

Soon, Trapper and I joined him.

* * *

Later that day, I was outside watching for Mark's car. My stomach was growling but I ignored it. I hadn't had any breakfast or lunch. Not even a snack! I kicked a small stone on the ground. It bounced for a bit before hitting a tree root and coming to a stop.

I guess I had been too busy thinking about my plan to really think of my stomach. I yawned idly and sat down on the grass. I looked around.

It was a really nice day. It was probably around 12:30, and the sky was a clear blue with only a few departing clouds. The leaves on the trees were all reds, oranges, yellows, and golden-browns. A slight breeze was blowing, and it felt good.

But it didn't make me feel happy—it made me feel sad. Because I was in this very spot on the day I learned my parents were dead, and that day was just like this one.

"You ok, kiddo?"

I looked up to see Henry. I forced a smile.

"Yeah, great. I'm fine. Hawk, Trap, and I have another wonderful prank planned for Frank, the sky's a brilliant blue, Granny's cookin' fried chicken, why should I be unhappy?" I asked, grinning as cheekily as I could manage. Henry wasn't convinced.

He sat down beside me, the medals on his hat jingling. I scooted over a little to give him room. "You're a terrible liar," he informed. "Only when I wanna be," I countered. He shook his head.

"Vicky. . . You're a good kid, even with your sarcastic remarks and R-rated language. Crazy as it may seem, some of us are getting kinda fond of you, including me. Now tell me what's wrong," he prodded. I sighed and leaned back.

"I was seven when my parents died," I murmured. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him stiffen a little. I continued.

"Every Sunday, after lunch, we'd go for a drive. But that day I was sick, so I was left at home with Granny and Pop. And. . . they never came back."

"What happened?" Henry asked quietly. I shrugged.

"What does it matter? It happened eight years ago. Besides, they wouldn't have wanted me to dwell on things that had happened in the past," I said, waving my hand dismissively.

For a moment, we were both silent. Then Henry stood up. "You need to talk to someone, Vicky. You can't avoid it forever," he said. Then he went back to the house.

'_Easy for you to say_,' I thought darkly. I waited for Mark's car for about 10 more minutes, then I stood up and brushed my pants off. I began walking to the house, when someone—a male someone who was in incredibly good shape—suddenly grabbed me around the waist and hoisted me into the air from behind.

* * *

**Ta-da! The 10th chapter finished. I'm sorry it's a bit crappy, but I'm a little rusty. I'm kinda dragging out the thing about Vicky's parents death as the story goes on, so you're just gonna have to collect the little tidbits of information as we go.**

**The reason why I didn't do the movie MASH is because I've never seen it, even though I really want to.**

**Also, the reason why this chapter was a bit. . . blegh is because my best friend was sent to a mental faculty because she was crying and scratching her wrists with a safety pin. She's suicidal, ya see. She'll be out next week and the doctor's are gonna put her on a anti-depressant.**

**Oh, and Kooshball? I'm not so sure about my story being more popular than yours. Yours was a true masterpiece—I was reading it as I wrote this chapter! It always makes me feel all. . . tingly inside.**

**Special Thanks (so far) To:**

**Kooshball**—_For all the great ideas and the wonderful support! And your reviews helped me get off my lazy butt to write this chapter! You're awesome!_

**Trivette Lover Heather**—_You're still reading the story! Thanks for the terrific support and the swell reviews—they also helped me get off my butt to write this chappie._

**Hawkeye's Martini**—_You're still reading this, too? Wow! Thanks for the ideas, support, and reviews, they've helped a lot!!!_

**MicroChips**—_Another loyal reader. Thanks so much! You rock!_

**bluesparkle123**_—(sobbing happily) SO MANY LOYAL READERS!!! Thank you! Love the support, ideas, loyalty, and reviews!!!_

**melbo18**—_THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!!!!_

**Intelligent Witch 1**—_You rock. Thanks so much!_

**And much love, gratefulness, and thanks to all of my other reviewers! This fic may not have survived without your support and helpfulness!**

_**Happy Holidays! MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!!!!**_


	11. OPERATION: FRANKIE GOT FINGERED Part 2

**Hi! I'm back!**

**So, here we go with chapter eleven. I wish Mother was here—she loves to cry. Lol, that's a quote from the fifth season of MASH—Colonel Potter said that when two Koreans were getting married at the 4077th and Potter was giving the bride away.**

**Oh, and writingtiger? The reason why Vicky is kinda. . . er, angry at the world is because of something you'll find out as the story goes along. You'll see, she'll mellow out—it just takes a bit of time.**

**And so, without further adieu, I present to you chapter 11!**

* * *

**Disclaimer: No, I do not own MASH. If I did, believe me when I say that I would die a happy girl.**

**Quote of the Day:**

**(Col. Potter and B.J are trying to pursuade a concubine to give up her. . . uh, office so they could use it for a new O.R after they bugged out)**

_**Concubine: **Business before war!_

_**B.J: **That's what makes America great._

**What The Hell Is Going On?**

**Chapter 11**

**All Hell Breaks Loose Part 2**

* * *

"**BABY COUSIN!!**" 

Usually, if things had been slightly different, I would have shouted at him to put me down. But seeing as how things were as they are, I was actually really happy to see him.

"Mark!" I laughed. My cousin set me down, and I turned to face him. It's too bad he's gay, seeing as how he's really my third cousin—but then, my entire family likes to keep in touch with one another.

"Ah, still developing, I see," he said out of the blue. Suddenly I wasn't so happy to see him.

"Please, let's make this a _NICE_ visit," I said through gritted teeth. Mark waved his hand airily. That's when I noticed just what he was wearing. A pale pink dress shirt—very frilly, very lacy, very girly.

And very gay.

My gaze dropped lower. Were those **_SILK_** pants?

Yep, white silk, glinting in the sunlight. Black dress shoes, shiny as ever. He always keeps himself extremely clean. . . Just. Like. Frank.

"_He he he he he he_. . ." I snickered evilly.

"Oooo, _Vicky-chan_ (he enjoys speaking in Japanese—one of his ex-boyfriends' was from Japan and he taught Mark the language), you _naughty_ girl! You know I swing the other way," I heard Mark laugh.

My face heated up in embarrassment. My head snapped up to meet his gaze. I glared my worst glare.

"What makes you think I'd even be remotely interested in _YOU_?!" I shrieked. Now I remembered another reason why I wasn't too fond of hanging around my cousin, even if I did love him; he was a very conceited man.

"I'm kidding," Mark laughed. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I swear, he could be so obnoxious. "Oh, shut up," I grumbled. To save myself from the risk of tearing his organs out, I decided to put the first part of our plan into action.

"So. . . Mark," I began, smiling in what was probably a sly way. "I've got a. . . distant relative visiting for a while that I think you'd be interested in."

"Is that so?" Mark asked, sounding rather bored. I nodded. "Yep. He's in the army—" At this, a sort of lusty-ish gleam came into Mark's eye "—and he's also VERY _**PATRIOTIC**_. He's taking time out of his very _busy_, very _hard_, and very _**LONELY **_schedule to come visit me. I believe that he needs a lover—you know, someone who'll hold him, admire him, adore him. . ." I watched his face closely. He looked. . . hungry.

"Wanna give it a shot?" I finished. He looked down at me and smiled charmingly. "Absolutely. He sounds. . . very interesting," Mark said smoothly. He licked his lips. I mentally retched."_**GOOOOD**_," I cooed, mentally jumping around with joy.

Then I remembered what Mark was wearing. If Mark continued to wear that, Frank would know that my cousin was gay. Fortunately, Mark will do anything to make an army guy attracted to him.

"There's just _one little thing_—he prefers _masculinity_. He doesn't like any of that pink, girly stuff. Oh, and he also likes it when you play hard to get. Drives him crazy, even if you can't tell," I added quickly. Mark smiled lazily.

"Not a problem, Vicky-chan. I have just the thing in my car. I'm prepared for anything," he said, giving me the Boy Scout's salute—which was pretty stupid, seeing as how he was kicked out of the boy scouts after only the first four meetings for wearing dresses, bringing Barbie dolls, and trying to kiss the scout master's son.

"Ok, great," I said happily. Then I noticed that hismetallic greenSUVwasn't anywhere in sight. "Uh, wait a minute, where's your car?" I asked. He couldn't have walked from the airport because a) it was miles from here and as hard as it is to believe, there are a bunch of weirdos that wander around, and b) he didn't have his luggage with him.

"Oh, I parked down the street a couple blocks away. I wanted to surprise you, seeing as how you're always outside when I arrive. Besides, I needed the exercise anyway," he said briskly, waving his hand dismissively. I rolled my eyes._ 'God,'_ I thought mournfully. _'Why do you hate me?'_

I sighed, shook my head, and said to Mark, "Alright, well, go get your stuff and change down in the basement. Use the outdoor entrance so Frank—that's my relative's name—won't see ya."

Mark's eyes got all dreamy and cloudy, kinda like how our cow's does when she gets brushed. "_Frank_," he breathed, saying Ferret Face's name like it was something special. "Just saying it makes me all a tingle. It has a certain. . . something special added to it. . . It's almost _magical_. . ."

I stared at him in disgust. I don't care if a person's gay or not, it's just the fact that he's talking about Ferret Face. I frowned and said in my best stern voice, "Ok, all that 'magical' and 'all-a-tingle' crap has to go! Remember, he likes manly men. Put those acting skills to work! You didn't go to that stupid academy and take all those acting lessons just to let them go to waste, did ya?"

"Of course not, Vicky-chan," he said dramatically. "You're right! Ah, it's so unfortunate that such a smart brain is stuck inside such a flat-chested, underweight, thin-haired little thing like you."

And with that, he skipped away. Now, I'll admit that it did sting—my appearance is kind of a touchy subject for me. I'm not exactly a super-model, if you know what I mean. But then I remembered my plan, and realized that everything was working out the way it was supposed to. Once I knew my cousin was out of earshot, I promptly let out a great big whoop and performed my own little victory dance.

Part A of operation **'FRANKIE GOT FINGERED'** was now complete. I paused from my little dance to look up at the sky. I wondered how Hawkeye and Trapper were doing with Part B. . .

* * *

**-Hawkeye and Trapper-**

Hawkeye peered at Frank over the top of his cards. The major was currently polishing his boots and whistling to the tune of 'The Three Stooges'. The captain couldn't help but grin. So far, Vicky's plan was going perfectly. Hawkeye had to admit that she was a pretty clever kid, even if she did look like a twelve-year-old.

Hawkeye and Trapper were pretending to play poker, but what they were really doing was waiting for the perfect time to begin Part B of Vicky's plan. The two captain's eyes met, and they nodded simultaneously.

It was time.

"Say Frank," Hawkeye began, making sure to keep his tone casual, "you remember Granny (_**A/N: Just so ya know, the grandmother told all the members of the 4077th to call her granny. Why, I don't know, I just made the woman up, ok?**_) telling us about Vicky's cousin Mark coming to visit?"

Frank looked up, scowling.

"Yeah, so what? What's it to me if that brat's cousin is coming over?"

Hawkeye felt a twinge of anger mixed with annoyance. He was getting kinda fond of the kid—all of them were, except for Hot Lips and Ferret Face—so he didn't exactly like the fact that Frank was calling Vicky a brat. Trapper seemed a bit annoyed as well.

However, Hawkeye forced her anger down and spoke, keeping his tone idle. "Right, Frank, well you see the thing is, her cousin is considering joining the army. And we figured that since you're second-in-command of the 4077th, a major, and the most military man in the unit, you could take him under your wing and be a sort of, you know, role model for him."

Trapper nodded in agreement and added, "Of course, we couldn't do it, seeing as how we're heathens and are two of the most unmilitary beings ever to walk on the face of the Earth, aside from Klinger."

By now, Frank's chest was so puffed out with pride, it almost looked like he had breasts—which is seriously disgusting, once you think about it.

"So what do ya say, Frank?" Hawkeye asked, grinning. "_WEEEEEELLLLL_. . . Ok! After all, I can't let a poor boy with the potential to be a real soldier fall into the hands of two bleeding hearts like you," Frank said, a slimy smile plastered onto his face as he pulled his boots on.

"Well put, Frank," Hawkeye said as Frank walked out, whistling the National Anthem and probably going to go brag to Margaret about what just happened.

"You know, it's a pity that this isn't a real poker game," Trapper said as Hawkeye threw down his cards. "Why's that," the dark-haired surgeon asked, yawning and stretching his arms above his head. "Because I have a full house!" Trapper laughed, showing his cards to Hawkeye.

* * *

**-Vicky-**

While Mark changed downstairs in the basement and Frank was off doing who-knows-what, Hawkeye, Trapper, and I waited up in my room. "Did you talk Klinger into wearing normal clothes so he won't distract Mark?" I asked the two surgeons, whispering. "Yep. We had to tell him the plan of course, but he swore he wouldn't tell," Trapper whispered back.

I smiled. "B-E-A-utiful," I said. "Now let's begin Part C."

* * *

**Oh dear, Mark has landed! What chaos and disorder is in store for Frank in the next chapter? Guess you'll have to tune in and find out! Ok, I'll be seeing ya! Oh, and as a Christmas present, I'll allow each reviewer who reviews for this chapter to appear in the next one! It may be brief, and if you're lucky, ya may show up in even later chapters.**

**Also, I have a serious question. Do you think I should end this story after Hawkeye, Trapper, Henry, and the others leave, or should I move on to the part where Hawkeye and the others appear, except for B.J. and Colonel Potter replace Trapper and Henry, and then so on and so forth? Let me know! E-mail me if you have any ideas! Happy Christmas! **

**Kitty Kat-chan**


	12. OPERATION: FRANKIE GOT FINGERED Part 3

**I'm baaaaaaaaaaaack! I hope all of you had a happy and wonderful Christmas!**

**I thank you all for the wonderful reviews. Well, here's the poop: I've always planned for this to be a long story. And I plan to stick with that decision. The reviews that you all sent me have also helped me make my choice. Therefore. . . I'm not ending this story after Trapper, Henry and the rest leave! Well, actually, I'm kind of combining it with Kooshball's idea; in the chapter after they leave, Vicky's gonna walk around and find things that the MASH people left behind. Then at the very end, the MASH people will return, only this time with Potter and B.J.**

**You see, I've been studying sequels and such, and I've discovered that they don't get as much attention as the first. So the story will continue after they leave, then come back with B.J. and Potter. Thanks ya'll!**

**Oh, and to Kooshball's question: yes, I have seen Bruce Almighty recently—I've got the DVD. Why do ya ask?**

* * *

**Quote of the Day:**

**_Nurse:_** _You're married, aren't you?_

_**Henry:** That's alright, so's my wife!_

* * *

**What The Hell Is Going On?**

**Chapter 12**

**OPERATION: FRANKIE GOT FINGERED**

****

* * *

****

I stood in front of Mark's door and quickly ran over the plan again in my head. Hawkeye and Trapper had made a few changes. Now there was a wedding added to Part C. I shook my head. How those two came up with these things, I'll never know. . .

I poked my head into Mark's room and smiled at him. "Hiya, cousin. How ya doin'?" I asked. Mark looked up from his book and smiled. He was now dressed in a white shirt, blue jeans, and sneakers. His hair was tied back.

"Oh, I'm doing alright, I suppose. When do I meet Frank?"

"All in good time, all in good time," I soothed. "Be patient for now. Are ya comfy?" Mark shrugged. "I suppose," he sighed. "**_GOOOOOOD_**," I cooed, then closed the door.

"He he he he he he he he. . ." I snickered, rubbing my hands together. All the pieces were coming together. Now I just had to make a few phone calls. . .

* * *

"Yes, that's right, my cousin's getting married tomorrow," I said into the phone. Hawkeye and Trapper were right beside me, listening in on the cordless phone while I was on the one that had a cord. I was talking to Carlos, owner of the most famous (and cheapest) Mexican restaurant in town, 'Garcia's Fiesta.'

Thankfully, Carlos seriously owed me—I watched his two kids one Saturday night for free because he had to go bail his great uncle out of jail—the old man was caught streaking down the highway after being thrown out of a bar. It took two and a half hours just to fill all the paperwork out.

"Which one? The gay one?" Carlos asked. "Yep," I said. "Say Carlos, do ya think you could cater the wedding? I'll pay ya, but could you charge us half price?"

"Sure Vicky, I'll do that. Can I also get front row seats?"

"We'll see. Muchas gracias, mi amigo."

"De nada. Adios."

"Adios," I said, then hung up. Then I picked the phone back up and began to call "Father" Eustace—he wasn't really a Father. Well, actually he is, but he doesn't teach sermons or anything. He's actually the only person in this town who'll marry two people of the same sex—and he'll do it for a good old-fashioned case of homemade gin.

"Father Eustace?" I asked when I heard his voice. "This is Victoria Turner, Mortimer Turners grandkid. You got a minute?"

"Victoria?" I heard him ask; his voice was slurred. He must've been drinking. "What're you callin' me for? Your granddaddy in trouble or somethin'?"

"No sir. I was just wondering if you would be so kind as to perform a marriage ceremony tonight." I held my breath, praying that he'd say yes or that his schedule wasn't booked or something. Gay people from all over South Carolina came to him to get married. I think he was one of the three people in the state that had a legal license to perform gay marriages.

"_**Weeeeeeeeeeeelllllll**_. . . I dunno kid. I'm a pretty busy man—my schedule's pretty booked. Which cousin are we talking about?" he guffawed loudly, then gave a very loud and very wet hiccup. Unfortunately, time for us was running short, and Hawkeye was getting impatient.

"Mark, Eustace, she's talking about Mark! Who else would she be talking about?" Hawkeye yelled into the phone. "Hawkeye, stop it! Don't mess this chance up!" I hissed at him, pressing the phone to my chest. He waved his hand at me, as if to say 'Don't worry about it.'

"Wha? Who was dat?" Eustace slurred. I flinched; I could just picture Eustace's large, fat body swaying, his ugly, wrinkled face flushed red from the alcohol, and drool hanging from his almost toothless mouth.

"That's just my Uncle Hawkeye. Ignore him, he hasn't taken his medication," I said, glaring at my "uncle." He crossed his eyes at me. "Really you two, these public displays of affection have got to stop," Trapper whispered to us. Hawkeye hit him in the back of the head and I kicked him in the shin.

"What'll ya give me if I do this?" Eustace asked. He guffawed again. "A whole case of my Granny's gin," I said firmly. That shut him up. True, Pop made pretty good gin, but Granny's was legendary. I've heard men (and a few women) say that her gin was just a little bit of heaven blessed upon our town.

"Really. . ." Eustace said slowly. Then he belched—a loud, wet, and totally disgusting burp. "Ugh," I said, disgusted beyond all reason. "What charming manners he has," Trapper said sarcastically.

"Alright, kid. I'll do it. Date and time?"

I nearly jumped out of my skin with joy once I heard him say that. "Tomorrow around 7:30 PM," I said breathlessly. "All right, all right. . . See ya," he said, then he guffawed some more. Then there was the dial tone.

"Hallelujah!" I cheered as Hawkeye and Trapper laughed. "What next?" Hawkeye asked when we finished celebrating. "The wedding guests, and then we decide who the best man, ushers, maid of honor, and brides maids are—Radar's gonna be the ring bearer. On of my friends can be the flower girl," I replied, wiping a happy tear from my eye.

"Well what are we waiting for? Let's get this party started!" Trapper exclaimed, shoving the phone into my face.

* * *

Finally, suppertime came.

"Come on, Mark! I'm hungry, I'm sure you look fine!" I shouted through the door. I had been standing out there for 5 whole freakin' minutes, and God dammit, I was hungry!!!

"_I'm reeeeeeeaaaaady!_" Mark sang, leaping out of his room. "Good, now let's go," I grumbled, starting towards the kitchen. "And remember," I added, looking over my shoulder at him. "Act manly. You got that, Fairy Princess?"

"I've always wanted to be a Fairy Princess," Mark sighed. I rolled my eyes. "Only in America," I muttered under my breath.

* * *

Mark immediately spotted Frank once he entered the room—he had to, Frank was the only one wearing fatigues. The only male, anyway. And I could tell immediately by his wide eyes and gaping mouth that my cousin had fallen in love. I don't know why. Frank's no Brad Pitt, if you know what I mean.

"Uncle Frank," I said once we were face to face, "I'd like you to meet my cousin Mark. Mark, this is my uncle, Major Frank Burns."

"Nice to meet you," Mark said, smiling lazily. They shook hands. "So, I'm told that you want to join the army," Frank said. My cousin gave me a startled look. I nodded quickly. Mark turned back to Ferret Face and nodded.

"That's correct sir. It's a dream I've had since I was a kid."

'Nicely put, cousin,' I thought, grinning to myself. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Hawkeye and Trapper gesturing to me.

"Well, I'll just leave you two alone," I said before casually slipping away. I collapsed into a seat beside Trapper. "Phew!" I exclaimed, wiping pretend sweat from my forehead. "So? How'd it go?" Hawkeye asked eagerly. I looked up and grinned. "Mark has fallen deeply and passionately in love with Frank, who is absolutely convinced that my cousin wants to be a soldier of the American army. I'd say things are goin' pretty darn well," I said, grinning from ear-to-ear.

Through all of dinner, the three of us watched Mark and Frank get acquainted with each other. Hawkeye and Trapper were a bit worried that maybe I had been wrong when I said that Mark loved Frank, because my cousin seemed to be paying more attention to what Frank was saying than to Ferret Face himself. But I knew my cousin—if Mark wasn't interested in Frank, then he'd be scarfing his food down. However, the most Mark was doing right now was nibbling at a single lettuce leaf of his salad.

"Are you sure your cousin even likes Frank?" Trapper asked me worriedly ten minutes after dinner started. I nodded confidently. "Absolutely," I assured. "He's been chewing on that piece of lettuce since dinner started. Normally, he'd be halfway done by now."

Yeah, things were looking pretty good.

* * *

After dinner, Mark pulled me into his room. "Well?" he asked nervously. I raised one eyebrow. "Well what?" I asked in a bored tone.

"What did he say? About me?"

I grinned. "Well," I said, pretending to sigh. "This was supposed to be a surprise, but. . ." I looked at him and grinned. "Mark," I said slowly. "Frank. . . Frank wants to marry you!"

At first, Mark was completely still, his eyes wide and his mouth gaping. I held my breath. And then my cousin started bouncing around, laughing hysterically.

"He wants to marry me! He wants to marry _**ME**_!" my cousin chanted, positively giddy. Meanwhile, I smiled in the background.

Yep, everything was working out _**juuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuust**_ fine.

* * *

**Well, there ya go! Chapter. . . 12. Sniff. I feel all. . . warm and fuzzy inside.**

**Well, time for good news (and bad news)—my friend, the one that was scratching at her wrists, was released Tuesday (here in America) and is now living very happily back with her family. She says that the medication is working wonderfully. Yay!**

**And now for the bad news. . . I don't know if I've told you or not, but my sister has been in the hospital recently. In fact, she even had to spend all of Christmas time in there! Those damn doctors don't know what's wrong, _AND IT'S_ _MAKING ME SERIOUSLY PISSED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_ So, some chapters may be rushed or late. Sorry! **

**Also, I know I said people who reviewed would be in this chapter, well, I'm really sorry but it's gonna have to wait for the next one! My time with the computer is cut short now, thanks to my mother. PLEASE DON'T BE MAD!!**

**And now, since Christmas is sadly over, New Years has begun. So, let's welcome 2005 with open arms! Boo-ya!**

**Alright! Now, go down to that pretty purple button and leave a nice note for Kitty Kat-chan! Domo arigato! Ja ne!!**


	13. OPERATION: FRANKIE GOT FINGERED Part 4

**Aloha! Wow. . . 99 reviews. . . WOW. . . I LOVE YOU ALL! YOU ARE AMAZING, EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU! EVEN THE LITTLE GUY WHO SAID MY STORY WAS JUST A CHEAP TAKE OFF OF KOOSHBALL'S! YAY!!!**

**Sniff. . . Anyways, I'm now gonna introduce you to my new muse. . . Everybody, meet Kyle!**

**Kyle:. . . Hi.**

**Kyle is half lion, half human. Like I'm half cat (well, half kitten)** and half human! Isn't he adorable?! –huggles-

**So, while I go and read my reviews, Kyle is going to read the announcements! BOO-YA! –jumps into pile of reviews-**

**Kyle: Idiot. . . Anyway, Kitty Kat-chan would like to thank all her reviewers of the last chapter. Also, the doctors think they know what's wrong with her sister. . . of course, they've said** **that about five times before and were wrong, but. . .**

**It seems there was a pocket of germs or something—I think they called it a cyst—in her ovaries, and that's what's been causing her all that pain. Rachel—Kitty's sister—said that she feels much better now that it's out (they used a needle to get it out. . . yeesh) and would like to thank everyone for their concern.**

**Me: -pops head up from pile- And yes, my promise will be filled out today! There will be a list after the story of which person was a reviewer. . . or something like that. You may recognize which person you are, but whatever.**

**And now. . . ON WITH THE WEDDING!!!!**

* * *

**Quote of the Day:**

_**Potter:** So, I'm giving the bride away. I wish Mother was here--she loves to cry._

**Disclaimer: Nope, don't own it.**

**What The Hell Is Going On?**

**Chapter 13**

**OPERATION: FRANKIE GOT FINGERED Part 2**

* * *

It was the day. The wedding day. Was I nervous? Yes. Excited? Yup. Giddy? Hell yeah. 

I was currently standing in front of my bedroom window, dressed in a simple white, non-frilly, non-lacy dress. My friends were dressed similarly—Brittany's mom owns a clothing store and when she heard Mark was getting married and all of us were gonna be in it, she decided she had to help somehow.

I had told Mark that Frank was to nervous to tell him himself, but he wanted to get married as soon as possible. Well, thankfully, Mark didn't care. However, he was a bit unhappy of the fact that he couldn't see Frank until the wedding. But I reminded him that it was bad luck to see your future spouse before they came together in holy matrimony, and he quit whining.

And as for Frank. . . Well, Hawkeye and Trap were in the process of getting him drunk. REALLY drunk. Because once he was, they were going to tell him that he was getting married to Margaret.

Speaking of which, Hot Lips was currently unconscious, tied up, and stuffed inside the linen closet.

"Vicky-chan?"

I turned to see my cousin, dressed in a white gown. Yes, friends, he was dressed in a wedding gown. In a strange way, he looked kinda. . . pretty. Weird, I know, but he did.

"Hey cuz! Wow, you look great!" I said—and I meant it, too. I don't know why, but lately, ever since my 'family' got here, I've been feeling happier and happier. Hell, I hadn't felt this good since before Mom and Dad died.

"Thanks. . . You do, too," he said. He was smiling in an almost guilty way. I frowned.

"Yo, Mark, what the matter, man? It's your wedding day! You should be happy!" I said, putting on my most insane smile in hopes of cheering him up.

No good. My cousin sighed, walked over to my bed, and sat down. He absently played with a leaf in his bouquet, his head bowed.

"I'm. . . I'm a little nervous," he confessed. I sat down beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Wedding day jitters, huh? Don't worry about it, you'll be fine!" I soothed. Mark looked at me, biting his lip.

"Yeah, but. . . what about our honeymoon? We aren't having one. And that's not right, is it? And we haven't even known each other very long, have we? And we haven't made plans, and we haven't gotten a house yet—I don't have an engagement ring, for heaven's sake—" I placed a hand over his mouth to shut him up.

"Mark," I said seriously, guilt bubbling up in my stomach, "Uncle Frank is in the military. There are no second chances there. He's gotta take what he can on first chance, 'cause there's no time for him to hesitate. No, you guys won't have a honeymoon, and no, you haven't known each other very long, and no, you don't have a house yet—but none of that matters! Because today, Mark, you're getting married. And today is all that matters. Not tomorrow, not the day after that—just today. Because today, you and Frank are gonna go up there in front of that preacher and you're gonna say your vows and join together under holy matrimony. You're gonna be just fine. Do ya hear me, Mark? Are ya reading me loud and clear?"

Mark stared at me, his eyes bright and shining. He suddenly pulled me into a tight hug. "Thank you Vicky," he mumbled into my hair. "That was beautiful."

"Yeah," I said as we pulled apart. "That Dear Abby, she really knows what she's talking about."

* * *

Thirty minutes later, I found myself standing with my many friends in the yard, under the makeshift threshold. Father Eustace stood, bible in hand, sniffing and belching. Frank stood on the other side, swaying slightly. Hawkeye (the best man) was keeping him from falling over, withTrapper helping. Radar stood slightly near Frank, looking slightly lost but rather adorable in his tuxedo, holding the purple satin pillow that held the two rings (which we got from a vending machine near the liquor store). 

In the audience, Henry kept shaking his head, not believing what was happening. Father Mulchay was giggling ever so slightly, and Klinger (wearing a dark blue frilly dress with matching healsand white gloves) was dabbing at his eyes.

Granny, dabbing her eyes every once in a while, began to play the infamous song, 'Here Comes The Bride.' The guests (there were about 80 of them, all sitting in lawn chairs and dressed in slightly dressy, yet casual clothes since we told them not to come all formal) all stood up respectfully as my cousin, face covered by a veil, came down the aisle.

"Dearly beloved," Eustace began once Mark took his place. "We are gathered here today to. . ."

It was. . . sweet. Mark, through the veil, looked so happy. Frank. . . well, he looked drunk. I saw Carlos, in a front row seat, sobbing happily into a handkerchief. I couldn't help but feel kinda serious and calm. Even Hawkeye and Trapper seemed solemn.

By the time the part where they say "I do" came, I was crying—both in happiness, and sadness, because I was happy for Mark, but guilty that all this was a prank. But no matter how guilty I was, I wasn't about to reveal the prank to everyone. This was priceless.

While Eustace read Frank the vows he was supposed to repeat, I looked out into the crowd. I saw my friend, Izzy, video taping everything. She caught my eye and waved. I smiled at her.

"I—hic!—do."

"I. . . sniff. . do."

"I now pronounce you man and—" Eustace began, but was cut off when Frank promptly passed out on the spot. "—man," he finished, shrugging. Mark hovered over him, worrying. "Don't worry, he passed out in pure happiness," Hawkeye assured. You know, I think the three of us—Hawkeye, Trapper, and myself, that is—were kinda surprised Mark didn't comment on Frank's drunkenness. It was kinda obvious. Although, I suppose my cousin has always been a bit flaky.

* * *

"Great wedding!" was the first thing Izzy said to me once I approached her. She was from Australia, but she moved here to live with her aunt since she and her mom got sick of each other. Even though she was 18, the two of us got along great. 

"Thanks. Mark was pretty nervous, and I was too," I admitted, taking a sip from my Coke.

"Hey, Vicky!"

I turned to see Nicky, Sara, Tia, Mel, and Rebecca running toward me. Their some friends of mine from school—not really close friends, but we get along great.

"Glad to see your cousin finally settled down," Nicky laughed once she reached us.

Tia sniffed a little, dabbing her eyes. "Weddings always make me cry. . ." she mumbled. Mel patted her on the back. "Don't cry, Tia! Smile, be happy! Have some cake!" she said energetically, shoving a paper plate with a huge piece of cake on it in front of the crying girl.

"Say, Vicky," Sara said slowly, watching Hawkeye with slightly narrowed eyes. "I know you're a MASH fan. . . don't those two guys look like Hawkeye and Trapper?" I snorted into my can of soda.

"Yeah, I noticed that too," Rebecca said, also staring. I gasped, choking, but no one seemed to care. "Now that you mention it, yeah, they DO look a lot like Hawkeye and Trapper!" Izzy said, her eyes wide. I managed to get my breath back.

"Er. . . H-hawkeye and Trapper, you say? Ha ha ha. . . Do you know how many people tell them that? He he. . . er, those are my two uncles! But they do look a lot like them, don't they?" I said, laughing nervously. My friends gave me weird looks, and I broke out into a sweat.

"Are you ok, Vick? You look kinda sick. . ." Sara said, putting a hand on my forehead. "Maybe you should go lie down," Nicky suggested. "That'd probably be best," Rebecca said. I pushed Sara's hand away.

"Guy's, I'm fine! I'm just a little tired is all," I assured. They weren't convinced, but they did leave to go pig out on Mexican food—they warned me that I should go to bed, of course.

Later, I found myself sitting at a table and watching everyone dance to a slow song. My exhausted mind vaguely wondered if Margaret had woken up yet.

"That was quite a wedding, Victoria."

I looked up to see Ms. Jennings (aka Emma), my next-door neighbor. I smiled weakly.

"Yeah. . . It was, wasn't it?" I said, fighting back a yawn. Emma patted my hand and sat down in the chair across from me. "Your cousin. . . seems very happy," she said as we watched Mark shamelessly flirt with every single good looking guy at the reception. I shook my head.

"Married or not, Mark never will be 100 loyal to his 'true love,'" I said. We were both silent for a minute, content with watching Mark compliment Sara's little brother Cory's eyes until the poor boy was so red with embarrassment he was likely to explode.

"Well, you seem to be doing better," Emma said finally, standing. "Mmmmm," I went, staring down at the table. She patted my head, then went to her husband to dance.

So I sat there, by myself, content and overstuffed with tacos, nachos, and burritos, when Hawkeye and Trapper pulled me up and started whirling me around on the dance floor. At first I yelled, probably sounding just like Margaret ("You idiots! Would you grow up? Honestly, act your age, you're two grown men for heaven's sake!"), but in the end, I was laughing and having fun.

That night, after everyone went home and Mark dragged a semi-unconscious Frank into the guest bedroom (giggling, mind you), I changed into some purple flannel pajama's, curled up under the covers, and went to sleep.

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**Rebecca: Intelligent Witch**

**MicroChips: Mel**

**Melbo18: Tia**

**Nicky: Nicky007**

**MASH-Nut-4077: Sara**

**writingtiger: Emma**

**Kooshball: Izzy, of course!**

**There ya have it, the wedding. Hope ya liked it. Well, go down there and leave a review—I'll be waiting!!!**

**Have a happy New Year! Welcome 2005!**


	14. On The First Day of Marriage

**-dances- I've got over 100 reviews! I've got over 100 reviews! YIPEE! –jumps into pile of reviews and begins to backstroke-**

**Kyle: Grow up! You have to read the announcements!**

**Me: -patiently- Well, Kyle, before I would, but I've got you now. –starts scratching his ears- And one of the reasons I got you was so you could read the announcements while I enjoy my reviews. . . SO READ THEM! –continues backstroke-**

**Kyle: Idiotic, sadistic psycho-bitch. . . Anyway, Kitty's sister is out of the hospital and back with her father, and she also wants to remind everyone (or tell, in case you haven't read her profile) that she's back in school now and the updates my take longer.**

**Me: -pops head up- That's right! So now, without further ado, I bring you chapter 14! Kyle, go get me some buffalo wings, extra spicy. . .**

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**Quote of the Day:**

_**Hawkeye: **You've gotta have a pair of pajamas, look around, you had a pair when you got here!_

_**B.J: **I had a lot of things when I got here: faith, hope, sanity, a liver. . . _

**Disclaimer: Check all my other chapters.**

**Quick Warning(s):** **Ok, there will be utter and total insanity in this chapter. Why? I like insanity. I love insanity! Insanity is great! Everybody loves insanity! Well, everyone except Frank. And besides this is a crazy fanfic! Insanity is the main ingredient!**

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**What The Hell Is Going On?**

**Chapter 14**

**On The First Day of Marriage (crappy chapter name, but oh well)**

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_**"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"**_

I sat straight up, still half asleep.

"27!" I shouted groggily, thinking that I fell asleep in Algebra class. But no, I quickly realized that I was in my room, in bed, and someone from below was screaming their lungs out.

I stumbled out of bed and to the door. I then stumbled downstairs to try to find out what the hell was going on. I found Radar and Klinger standing in the hallway, both looking terrified.

"Whatsa matter?" I mumbled, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. "Someone's screaming!" Radar said, a crack in his voice.

**_"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!"_**

I immediately became wide-awake—it was much louder in the halls. "What the hell is that?" I whispered, chills running down my spine.

**_"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!"_**

Suddenly, the hallway was filled with people.

"What the heck is going on?" Henry asked. "Vicky, are you alright?" I heard Hawkeye call from the end of the hall. I could hear him and Trapper hurrying toward us. "I'm fine!" I called.

"The Nazis are attacking!" Pop said, his long gray night shirt dragging along the floor as he hurried towards us.

Then—

**_"NO! GET AWAY FROM ME!"_**

_"But Franky-chan, we need to have a honeymoon while we still can!"_

Suddenly, everything came back to me; the wedding, the planning, the scheming, and everything else in between.

"Well, it looks like Frank has discovered he's a married man again," Hawkeye said, his voice laced with amusement.

"You did remember to lock the door, right?" Trapper asked me. I nodded. "Of course," I said, smiling sweetly. "We wouldn't want anyone to interrupt Frank's honeymoon, now would we?"

Granny looked at the coo-coo clock. "Well, it's almost 6:00. How about I start breakfast?" she suggested.

"This early?" I asked. Granny looked at me, eyebrow raised.

"Of course dear, you've got school. I let you skip yesterday because of the wedding, but you must go today."

I groaned. Ugh, school.

* * *

I hopped into the kitchen, trying to tie my left shoe.

"I'm gonna be late. . ." I moaned.

"Say, where's Margaret?" Trapper asked, looking up from his newspaper.

I almost fell over.

"Oh my God, we left her in the closet!" I screamed. Trapper and Hawkeye looked at each other, then bolted from the table, probably headed for the closet.

Another, **_"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!"_** came from Mark's room. I groaned and quickly finished tying my shoe. I grabbed my book bag from the corner, stuffed a piece of toast into my mouth, called out a muffled "Bye!", and ran out the door.

I was halfway down the driveway when there was a loud crash—the kind of crash you hear when windows break. I turned around just in time to see a stark-naked Frank land right on top of Pop's pick-up from one of the upstairs windows.

The toast dropped from my mouth as I screamed **_"OH MY_** _**GOD!"**_ Then—

**_"MY EYES! THEY BUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRNN!!!!!"_** I screeched, covering my eyes with my hands since, well, Frank was naked--butt-naked.

Suddenly, I heard someone else screaming. I looked up to the broken window to see Mark, most likely in the nude as well.

"_**Frank! Frank!**_" he was screaming. Then he spotted me. "_**Vicky! Vicky, go get help! Go get help quickly!**_" he shouted to me.

So, I ran to the best help I knew—Hawkeye, Trapper, and Margaret.

* * *

Margaret did not look happy to see me when I entered the room (apparently, she hadn't been happy to see Hawk or Trap either, because they had broom-shaped bruises all over them, which they were sulking over in the corner). She looked even more livid when the two surgeons jumped up to see if I was ok. She was so livid, that she decided to pretend that I was a piñata.

"Frank jumped out the window!" I screamed when I saw Margaret lift her all-powerful broom to whack me over the head.

"He did what?" Trapper asked incredulously. "He jumped out the window—in his birthday suit!" I shouted.

All three bolted from the room, leaving me to realize a sickening fact again—I had seen Frank naked. I clapped my hand over my mouth and zoomed to the bathroom, fully prepared to be sick.

* * *

Unfortunately, I still had to go to school that day.

So there I was, sitting in Algebra, mentally screaming at myself for not studying for the test I was taking and trying to bully my brain into figuring out what y – 48 (6x5) 4 was if y equals 7.

Of course, I was completely distracted by my brain wondering what the heck my 'family' was doing back home.

"10 minutes!" my teacher, Miss Sullivan, called. I looked down at my test and realized I was only on question 5, and it was a 30 question test.

"Shit!" I cursed under my breath before furiously circling random answers.

* * *

I tried to pay no attention to the laughter behind me as I watched the pie in the oven bake (I was in Home Ec.). My friends, for the record, were the ones laughing.

"Vicky, is your test actually baking in that pie?" Brittany asked, thoroughly amused. "Damn straight," I muttered, glaring at the object which held my 45/F graded Algebra test.

"I cannot believe you actually did that!" Jess howled, doubling up.

I grunted. I wasn't very happy—As the lord would have it, I had a History test, an English test, and an upcoming Home Ec. Test that I had to study/practice for, not to mention next week my P.E class was going to have to have a little "exam."

But how the hell was I gonna get any studying done, with the 4077th right there at my home?

* * *

Wouldn't ya know it, but I got fired from my job at the gas station for not showing up for 4 days. So, heavy-hearted, I trudged home sadly.

As I shuffled up the hill, I tried to look on the bright side. I had more time for studying and friends now. But then, now I couldn't buy Playstation games whenever I had enough money.

I walked up the front steps and crossed the porch to the front door.

I opened the door and called "I'm home."

I slung my bag down and collapsed into the nearest chair. I was kicking my shoes off when Trapper entered the room.

"Look who's back!" he said, sounding a bit too happy for my taste. "How was your wonderful day of education?"

I gazed up at him, wondering vaguely if he was sick. "I failed an Algebra test and found out that I've got a History test, an English test, a Home Ec. test, and a P.E exam coming up. I hated it."

"Aw, that's too bad!"

We both looked over to see Hawkeye standing there with a tray that held a sandwich and a glass of milk. He walked over. "How about a little snack to make it all better?" He said as he sat the tray in my lap. He stepped back.

Watching both men suspiciously, I gingerly picked up the sandwich and waved it under my nose, sniffing cautiously. Then I held it out to them. "One of you take the first bite."

"We didn't do anything to it," Trapper assured, smiling still. I set the sandwich down.

"Why are you so happy?" I asked. Then something dawned on me. "Did Frank die?" I asked, not exactly looking forward to the fact of a dead man being inside my house.

"No!" Hawkeye laughed. "Where's Mark?" I asked, picking up the glass of milk and swirling it around to see if there was anything inside it.

"He left. We told him that Frank had amnesia over night and needed some time to get his memories back," Trapper said.

Unable to find anything, I set the glass back down and gazed up at them. "So, what's up?" I asked.

I regretted it at once when they grinned down at me evilly. "Well," Hawkeye began, his tone casual, "your grandparents left today."

I didn't understand, and I was also a bit confused. "Left? What, did they go to a auction or something? What time will they be back?"

Those evil looks were starting to creep me out.

"Well," Trapper said, picking up for Hawkeye. "That's just the thing—see, they left for an auction that's all the way in Georgia."

My stomach did flip-flops. "G-georgia?" I repeated hoarsely, my throat dry. "That's right," Hawkeye said, his voice sickly sweet. "And they won't be back for another two and a half weeks. Which means. . ."

"I'll be stuck here with you guys until they get back," I finished faintly, in shock. I closed my eyes and buried my face in my hands. "_Oh my God, I'm in deep shit. . ._" I moaned.

Hawkeye and Trapper laughed evilly.

* * *

**Ok, done! Leave me a nice review! Oh, and Kooshball. . . SORRY! You'll just have to wait and see who'll continue to be in this and who won't! Muwhahahahahahahahaha. . .**


	15. Thou Shalt Not Burn One's Kitchen To The...

**AH! GOMEN NASAI! I'M SO SORRY! I know, I haven't updated in weeks. . . but school's been brutal. . . Um, my sister went back into the hospital. That's another reason I haven't been updating. . . But she's out now! She just had another hole in her bladder. The doctor's patched it up now. And on the 22nd, I went to an Alison Krauss concert. IT ROCKED!**

**Oh, andlast week(1/28/05), my school got a bomb threat. As strange as it is to say, it was fun.**

**EVENT OF THE DAY:**

**Actually, it was the event of last week, but whatever. . . ALAN ALDA CELEBRATED HIS BIRTHDAY January 28th! He is now 69. When I told my mom, she said that now he was old (she used to watch MASH when she was my age).** **Well, that made me angry, so I yelled. . . and ranted. . . and raved. . . and then I was grounded. Another reason I couldn't update.**

**Quote of the Day:**

**_Frank:_** _It's nice to be nice to the nice._

**Disclaimer: Kitty Kat-chan does not own MASH, or anything related. If she did, she'd be busy making this fic into a movie.**

**Warnings and Other Crap: This chapter describes Vicky's appearance a little more, and it kinda has a little sappy (not romantically sappy, just family-bonding kinda sappy) moment between Vicky and Klinger. Also, more facts about the death of Vicky's parents are brought up. And you find out why Trapper and Hawkeye stick to making martinis. . .**

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**What The Hell Is Going On?**

**Chapter 15**

**Thou Shalt Not Set One's Kitchen On Fire**

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"Two. . . and. . . a half. . . weeks?" I whispered hoarsely. Hawkeye and Trapper were smiling large, cheshire cat smiles. I _hated_ them.

"Two and a half weeks with your wonderful family," Hawkeye said, wrapping one arm around me.

"Yep! Think of all the fun and excitement you're gonna have with us!" Trapper added, wrapping his arm around me as well.

I made a noise in my throat (it sounded kinda like "Nuh!").

"That's the spirit!" Hawkeye crowed. "But I have tests I've gotta study for," I whimpered pathetically. "We'll help you study!" Trapper declared.

I felt my eyes bulge out. "Say what?" was all I could manage out.

"He said, 'we'll help,'" the dark haired surgeon informed. For about five seconds, I was frozen. Then I began to bawl like an overgrown baby.

"I think she's ecstatic!" Trapper shouted to Hawkeye happily over my wails. "She just can't wait to spend time with her two favorite uncles!" Hawk shouted back. I just continued to cry.

* * *

"Alright Pierce, why did you call us down here?" Margaret demanded half and hour later.

Everybody (even Frank, who was surprisingly not whimpering like a baby, but actually giving us death glares—he was bandaged up a lot, and would make weird funny noises in his throat whenever moved one of his limbs in a certain angle) was sitting down in the living room, because Hawkeye called a meeting.

"Of course, my dear Hot Lips. As all of you know, Granny and Pop have gone away for two and a half weeks," he paused, then continued. "That means—" he placed a hand on my head (I was still bawling)"—that little Vicky here is our responsibility during that time. We are, after all, her _family._"

_"Wah-ha-ha-ha-ha. . ."_ I sobbed.

"And," Trapper said, picking up for Hawkeye, "it has come to our attention that Victoria has several tests for school coming up. As her guardians, it's only right that we make sure she studies for them."

_**"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh!"**_ I wailed.

"I'm not helping that little brat with anything!" Frank shouted. "That's right!" Margaret agreed. "How dare you degenerates ask us such a question after you tricked Frank into marrying that-that-" she couldn't seem to finish her sentence.

"But Major," Trapper chided, his voice sickeningly sweet, "this is your _niece. _You have to help her."

"She's no niece of mine!" Hot Lips shouted. Had I not been so miserable, I would've agreed.

"While you're here in 2004, she is," Hawkeye replied. He smirked. Trapper smirked. Margaret glared. Frank glared. I sobbed.

"What kind of tests does she need to study for, if I may ask?" Father Mulchay asked. "You may ask," Hawkeye replied. "And I believe she said she needed to study for an English test, a History test, a Home Ec. test, and a P.E exam."

"So, here's what it comes down to: four of you need to be her. . . counselors in a subject that she needs to study for," Trapper announced. I began to hit the floor weakly with my fist as I sobbed harder.

"Step up, pick a subject, and we'll start studying tomorrow," Trapper shouted over my wails.

I quieted just a bit to hear what they would say.

"Uh, I could help her with English," Radar said. _'Well, that won't be so bad. . .'_ I thought to myself.

"And I'd be delighted to teach her History," Mulchay piped up. _'Alright, maybe this will be ok after all,'_ I thought, feeling better.

"Alright, that's good," Trapper said, nodding. "But what about P.E and Home Ec.?"

"Oh, I could teach her P.E," Frank said, smiling evilly. I was silent for about three seconds. Then. . .

_**"NNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! HELP ME! LEMME OUTTA HERE! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH! I'M TOO YOUNG TO**_ _**DIE! MOOOOMMY!"**_ I wailed to the top of my lungs. I jumped to my feet and tried to make a run for the door.

Unfortunately, Hawkeye grabbed my ankle, so I didn't get very far. I landed, the air being knocked out of my body as I did so.

"Not so fast, missy," he said. I sobbed.

"Sorry Frank, but I don't think you're qualified for that," Trapper said dryly. Then he and Hawkeye whispered to each other quietly for a moment. I didn't even try to listen to what they were saying; I just wailed.

"Alright, we'll worry about the other two later," Hawkeye announced. "Right now, let's just rest up and get ready for tomorrow."

"This _suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucks_," I sobbed.

* * *

About two hours later (after I finally managed to calm down), I found myself in the livingroom with a blanket wrapped around me. I blinked and sat up. I must've fallen asleep, or blacked out, or something. . .

I stood up, folded the blanket and threw it on the couch, then stretched. My eye caught sight of the mirror over by the door, and I walked over to it. I nearly gagged when I saw my reflection. My face was red and puffy, my eyes were bloodshot, and my hair was sticking out in all directions out of my braid, making it look as if I had just jumped out of a tornado.

I ran to the bathroom and fixed myself up the best I could, meaning I washed my face and unbraided my hair before wetting it down. I ran my fingers through my hair; a pitiful attempt at untangling it, if I do say so myself. Then I took the opportunity to study myself in the mirror.

It's true that most people hate the way they look—hell, I read in a magazine that Halle Berry thinks she's ugly beyond all reason.

I leaned forward to get a better look.

My face is small and thin, like the rest of my body, making it look like I'm a) malnourished and b) like I'm a little kid. My eyes almost always have dark circles around them, making my face look even more like a skeleton. My eyes are kinda big, but not so big that I always look like I'm scared or surprised all the time. My nose is the only good feature I have on my face; it's one of those button noses.

My mouth is small, kinda oval shaped. It doesn't really seem to go well with the rest of my face. My teeth are mostly straight, but my dentist tells me I should get braces. No, I'm definetly FAR from good-looking. I sighed before glaring at my reflection. I pulled my hair up into a ponytail, then stepped outside.

* * *

The first thing that greeted my ears was shouting. Lots of frantic shouting. And it was coming from the kitchen area. _'Oh God,'_ I thought miserably before running towards the kitchen. And do you know what I found? No, of course you don't, because (once again) you weren't there. I found Henry, Radar, Klinger, Frank, Margaret, and Father Mulchay all crowded around the kitchen door, pounding on it and shouting.

"What the hell is going on?" I asked angrily, stomping up to everyone. "Pierce and McIntyre have decided to play chef and have locked themselves in!" Henry shouted over the noise. I groaned and slapped my forehead. Could this day possibly get any worse? With the luck I was having, the house would burn to the ground in the next two hours.

"Has anyone tried the outside door?" I asked loudly. My 'family' stopped what they were doing and stared. "There's an outside door to the kitchen?" Klinger asked. I threw my hands up. "_**DUH!**_" I shouted angrily. "I knew that," Frank said quickly. "In fact, I was just about to tell everyone we should—"

"Frank, shut up," I snapped. Then I pointed to Radar.

"Radar, come with me. We're gonna perform a surprise attack!" I said. My 'cousin's' face showed both surprise and fear. "Me? Why me?" he cried.

"'Cause the two would-be chefs like you," I said as I turned to leave. I only walked five steps before I heard him start to complain.

"Oh no, I'm not going. You can't make me, I won't do it, no sir—"

I grabbed his arm and dragged him out the door.

* * *

"Don't say anything," I hissed to Radar as we leaned back against the side of the house. "Why do I have to do this?" he hissed back. "Why not get Klinger or Colonel Henry?"

"Klinger would complain about ruining his dress and Henry would probably try to kill Trap and Hawk," I replied reasonably. "Then what about Major Houlihan and Major Burns?" the corporal continued. I rolled my eyes. "Radar, I think we both know the answer to that," I answered back dryly.

"But—"

"Hush, Radar! Now c'mon, lets go before the two would-be chefs discover there's another door—if they haven't already, that is."

So, we shimmied along the side of the house, careful not to attract the attention of the two surgeons as we neared the kitchen window.

Once we reached said window, we peeked in.

The two men were huddling in front of the oven, which had black smoke coming out. Something was bubbling in the pots on the stove, and there was flour everywhere.

Radar and I exchanged startled looks before ducking under the window and edging towards the door.

Once we reached the door, I grasped the handle and (still crouching) I twisted the doorknob carefully so that it made no noise. It was unlocked!

Relieved, I released the breath I had been holding. I gently twisted the knob and opened the door wide enough so that Radar could sneak on through. He hesitated, but went through into the kitchen. I followed, then closed and locked the door.

Radar and I both stood up, and I glared at my two 'uncles' backs.

"What the hell do you two think you're doing!" I shouted. They both jumped and whirled around.

"Hey, it's Vicky and Radar," Trapper said, relaxing as though he had been expecting to see the FBI.

"Damn straight it's me and Radar," I growled. "What are you two doing? What the hell is in there!" I stalked over to the oven, pulled some mittens on, opened the oven and pulled out a tray of. . . black stuff.

"Aw, our cookies are ruined!" Trapper whined from behind me as he peered over my shoulder to look at the substance in the tray.

"Cookies!" I choked, staring up at him as if he was nuts. "Yep," Hawkeye said, coming up behind me on my other side. "Chocolate chip. Guess it didn't work out, though."

"Geeze, sirs, you may be great surgeons but you sure are lousy cooks," Radar piped up.

"Thank you comrade," Hawkeye replied sarcastically. I shook my head.

"What are you guys up to?" I sighed.

"Well, since Granny is the one who usually cooks—" Hawk began. "—and no one else in this house know how to cook—" Trapper added. "—and since we know how to make martinis, which is about as close as close as you can get to cooking in a MASH unit—" Hawkeye continued.

"—We decided to cook dinner tonight!" they finished together.

I snapped.

"_**ARE YOU MAD!**_" I roared. "_**DO EITHER OF YOU REALIZE HOW DANGEROUS THIS IS! YOU GUYS CAN'T COOK! YOU'D BURN A SALAD!**_"

"Aw, how hard can it be? Women do it all the time," Trap replied, as if it was the most reasonably response in the universe.

My left eye twitched.

And then the stove was set on fire.

I dunno what happened—one minute, the medium-sized pot was perfectly fine (save for the fact that something greenish-brown was bubbling in it), and the next it was a roaring inferno.

"_**AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!**_" the four of us screamed. All of us started freaking out—only I think I freaked out more than the others.

**_"AH! 911! PLICE! SENIOR AUTHORITEES! MOMMA! CALL THE FIRE DEPARTMENT! CALL AN AMBULANCE! WAAAAAH, I'M TOO YOUNG TO DIE!"_** I screamed as the four of us ran around in circles, flapping our arms frantically.

The pounding and shouting from the hallway stopped for about five seconds, then stared up again with a gusto.

_**"PIERCE! MCINTYRE! RADAR! VICTORIA! WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON IN THERE!"**_

"Is everything alright?"

_**"CORPORAL, CAPTAINS, GIRL, GET OUT OF THERE THIS MINUTE!"**_

"What Major Houlihan said!"

"What's going on in there!"

We replied with this:

_**"FIRE!"**_

And then we reassumed our original running, flapping, and freaking out. That's when I caught sight of the fire extinguisher.

"Hang on everybody!" I shouted as I grabbed it from it's place beside the door.

I frantically tried to remember how my science teacher showed us all in her class how to use one of these things.

"Pull the chord out. . ." I muttered under my breath as I followed through with the directions. "Er, aim at fire. . . and squeeze the hose—!"

Suddenly, a stream of white foam shot out from the hose and splattered all along the walls. I let out a yelp and quickly re-aimed it at the fire.

Unfortunately, I hadn't realized that the fire had grown—a LOT.

_**"OH SHIT!"**_ I yelped as I frantically sprayed the growing inferno.

_**"VICKY, DON'T BE A HERO!"**_ Trapper shouted from behind me.

Suddenly, my eyes began to sting pretty badly. I squeezed them shut as somebody from behind wrapped their arms around me.

I heard something slam, and the hose slipped from my hands. This was quickly followed by a bunch of shouts coming from the door that led to the hallway.

15 seconds later, everything was silent. I cracked my eyes open.

There stood Henry, Klinger, Father Mulchay, and the two majors, all covered from head-to-toe in white goop.

I then realized there was laughter behind me, and I looked up to see who held me.

It was Hawkeye.

I abruptly stood up, embarrassed. I looked around. The fire was gone. . . but it left a big black mess in its place.

"Pierce," Henry suddenly growled, spraying white foam onto the floor. "McIntyre. Radar. _VICTORIA. . ._"

The laughter ceased; Henry was **NOT** happy.

"Yeah, Colonel?" Radar said in a small voice.

Splat, splat.

Gobs of foam fell from Henry's head. "You guys are in so much trouble!" he shouted. We whimpered.

* * *

"It's not fair," I complained to Klinger outside on the porch that night after supper (Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches). "I didn't mean to spray you guys. My eyes burned and the hose slipped!"

"I know kid," Klinger soothed as he straightened the material on his mannequin.

Earlier today (while I was at school), Klinger had taken himself on a little field trip up to the attic. There, he found cloth, sewing supplies, and the mannequin. However, Hot Lips and Ferret Face absolutely forbid him to make any dresses in the house. So he had to make them outside on the porch. I decided to join him after finally completing the long list of chores I was forced to do because of the cooking incident.

"I mean, it wasn't that funny—ok, it was pretty hilarious—but that doesn't mean I'd do it on purpose!" I ranted, resting my head in my hands as I pushed the rocking chair I was sitting in back and forth with my feet.

"Well, I don't blame you," Klinger said. "Thanks," I muttered. "Neither does Father Mulchay," the 'crazy' man continued. I grinned up at him half-heartedly.

Then I looked up at the night sky and stared at the stars.

In our little town, everyone goes to bed at exactly 10:00 PM. At 10:00, all the lights in the town, from the brightest streetlight down to the last lamp in a Dollar Store, was turned off. Since our town is basically in the middle of nowhere, miles away from any other human civilization, there's no other light around to black out the stores.

At that time, it was around 11:00. And I swear, at that moment, I really believed that there was a God. It was that beautiful. You would never believe there could be so many stars.

"That really is beautiful," Klinger said from behind. I looked over my shoulder at him, then smiled and nodded. "Yeah," I replied as I turned my head back around to look back up at the night sky. "If there's one good thing about living in a town placed in the middle of nowhere, it's the night sky. I can't imagine living anywhere else."

The two of us fell into a comfortable silence, enjoying the cool wind blowing upon our faces and the beautiful sky that looked like a dark, dark blue blanket sprinkled with millions and millions of tiny diamonds . . . . Gee, that was philosophical, wasn't it?

Anyway, as the two of us sat there together, I was reminded of the many times sat out on this porch with my parents when I was little. Those were great times, especially in the fall, when the leaves were gold, and red, and brown, and orange. . . and the smell of baking pie was heavy around the house, wafting from the open kitchen window. Jesus, I'm being seriously philosophical today. . .

A huge lump rose in my throat as my heart ached. I missed my parents. I really did. It hurt every time I thought about them—hell, it still does—and I was always reminded of how I never told them I loved them before they left for that freaking drive. But that's not what made me feel so guilty. . . not really, anyway.

"You ok kid?"

Startled, I looked back sharply to Klinger. "Huh?" I asked stupidly. Klinger stared at me in confusion and concern. "You're crying, Vicky! What's wrong, are you ok!"

I brushed the back of my hand over my eye, then lowered my arm and stared at it. It glistened. Shit, I was crying! I stared at the back of my hand for about five seconds before speaking.

"I'm fine!" I said loudly, frantically drying my eyes with my sleeves. "The sky. . . Is just so beautiful, and I was filled with such emotion. . . I mean, it really moved me you know—"

But of course, Klinger didn't believe me in the slightest. He didn't press the subject however, and instead fished a handkerchief out of his purse and handed it to me (sighing, mind you, because I was wiping my running nose with my sleeve as well).

"Here, use this. It's more absorbent than your shirt."

I smiled weakly, and wiped my face, then blew my nose (rather loudly, I admit with embarrassment).

Again, the two of us fell into silence, though this time it was rather awkward. Finally, however, Klinger decided to speak.

"So. . . what's wrong?"

I shrugged, fidgeting with the handkerchief. But then I looked over at him. "Am I really that easy to read?" I asked softly. Klinger nodded, grinning in a sideways sort of way. "Like a book," he replied. I sighed.

"Well. . . I guess I just remembered how my dad and I would sit out here and look up at the stars," I explained. "Did your father make dresses on a mannequin, too?" the corporal asked. I couldn't help but laugh. "No," I giggled. "But he would carve on a piece of wood sometimes."

I blew my nose again, then decided that I might as well talk. 'Who knows,' I thought to myself. 'It might make me feel better. . .'

"Anyways, we'd sit out there together, and he'd point out constellations to me, and he'd tell me stories about his childhood, as well as ghost stories and tall tales." I sniffed loudly, then continued.

"Sometimes, Mom would come out as well. She'd sit me in her lap, and I'd bury my face in her chest and I'd feel like nothing could hurt me. I felt so happy then. . ." I trailed off, aware that my voice had a distinct tone of longing in it.

I gave another sniff. We sat there in silence for awhile. I started enjoying it again, but then Margaret came and started ranting about how I should be in bed, it's a school night, yadda yadda yadda. So I stood up, and then did something that still makes my face burn, even though it seemed like a good idea at the time.

I hugged Klinger.

I know, I know, it doesn't seem like such a big deal. I mean, it would've been worse if I'd of kissed him. But still! I'm not one of those touchy-feely kinda girls. . . At least I wasn't at the time—argh, it's complicated, ok! **ANYWAY**, I hugged Klinger, then ran back inside and up to my room as soon as I realized what the hell I just did.

And you know how sometimes, after something bad happens, you think things just can't get any worse? Well, that's what I thought.

And the next day, things got a hell of a lot worse.

* * *

**Um. . . hehe. . . Well, that's it! Um, I know this is seriously late—I mean the little intro and stuff I posted Saturday of last week—but well, I've been. . . occupied. – hides Jak 2 behind back guiltily- So. . . Um, review please! Stay in school! And try to stay away from foreign drugs!**

**And please, say a little prayer (or wish on a star, or something, if you're not the religous type) that I pass the year with good grades, so that I may continue to write wonderful chapters! See ya!**

**Kitty Kat-chan**


	16. Ah, the Power of Hormones

**Well. Now I'm FINALLY updating. About time, huh? The reason I haven't been updating is because TWO of my stories have been deleted, AND my boyfriend cheated on me.**

**AGAIN. **

**Oh, woe is me. I had to dump him. And I wasn't happy about it, either. Well, high school does have it's good sides and it's bad sides. Sniff.**

**Kyle: Oh, suck it up.**

**_SHUT UP, KYLE! ANNOUNCE THE FREAKIN' FIC AND LET ME BE, GOD DAMMIT!_**

**Kyle: Y-y-yes ma'am. R-right away, ma'am.**

* * *

**Quote of the Day**

_**Hawkeye: **What a unique device, the human tush. An architectural marvel, one of a kind. . . Actually, two of a kind. Designed to support our weight for a lifetime of sitting, it also has the subtlety to do the samba. And when attached to certain members of the female species when a time of light summer dresses are worn can cause some of us to drive our cars straight up a lamp post._

* * *

**Disclaimer:** NO! NO NO NO **NO! **I do **NOT** own MASH. If I did, I'd be living the life of luxery. . . And obviously I'm not. Sad, isn't it? But if you donate a dollar each, I can work my way up to buying MASH. I've already got ten bucks! 

**What The Hell Is Going On?**

**Chapter 16**

**Ah, the Power of Hormones**

* * *

Really, I should've expected that the 'study week' was going to be hell. I mean, my _wonderful _family was supposed to help me study. 

My tests were scheduled for Thursday and Friday of next week, so I had plenty of time to study **BY MYSELF**, but there would **NEVER** be enough time to study with the doctors, corporals, nurse, and Ferret of the 4077th.

So on Thursday (the day following the day after my family decided to help me study), I dragged myself to school, already worn out. The afternoon before had been brutal. . . I'd never known that the history of Catholicism was so brutal and bloody.

Did you know that in 1609, a Spanish nun named Laura was dropped into a vat of molten lead by a bunch of angry raiders? I was seriously tempted to ask Father Mulchay how he knew that at the time, but decided against it. I did however point out to him that we were studying the Ancient Egyptians in History class, and the only religion involved with that was the ever powerful gods (i.e. Set, Anubis, Isis, Osiris, Ra, etc.).

Anyway, I dragged myself into my first period class, which was Chorus. I slumped down into my seat beside Brittany and slammed my head on top of my desk.

"Are you ok?" I heard my friend ask timidly, as if she was afraid I was about to have a nervous breakdown. . . which was probably true, all things considering.

I lifted my head up and smiled in a most-likely psychotic fashion. "Oh yeah," I said in a raspy, tired voice. "I'm great, finejust _peachy._"

**(A/N: You know what I just found out today? I just found out that this guy I have a crush on doesn't have a second toe. Seriously. It was shot off. Isn't that _creepy_? Er, sorry,I kinda had to get that out of my system. . .)**

Brittany gave me a startled look.

"Damn girl," she said. "You look like your about to go on a killing spree!"

"Do I?" I rasped.

Brittany opened her purse and pulled out her mirror.

"See?" she said, showing me my reflection.

To put it bluntly, I looked like a psycho. My hair was messed up with strands sticking out from my bun in all directions,my eyes were dark with a slightly manic gleam, and they had more bags under them than usual. My face was pale, and my smile was just plain creepy.

"What a lovely picture I make," I muttered sarcastically.

"It'snot that bad," Brittany replied, standing up and walking behind me, her ever-faithful brush ready to take on any obstacle. "It just needs to be brushed a little is all."

Despite her small, thin frame and sweet disposition, Brittany doesn't seem to know how to be gentle when it comes to brushing hair. I flinched every time she dragged the brush acrosse my scalp.

"You've got so many tangles!" Brittany cried as she yanked a particuarly nasty tangle out, causing my eyes to tear up.

"Uuuuuhhh. . ." Ireplied, digging my nails into my palms.

Hell just seemed to follow me everywhere.

* * *

It happened in English class.

There I was, minding my own business while Ms. Hart (the English teacher) read a paragraph from Romeo and Juliet out loud when there was a knock on the door.

The teacher stood up, set the book down, and, with an annoyed look on her face, walked briskly to the door, her lips puckered to show her displeasure.

I watched all this through half closed eyelids, bored, and feeling sleepy and stupid. She opened the door.

That's when I saw** HIM.**

Brown hair, blue eyes. . . the bluest blue eyes I'd ever seen, and a well sculpted face; he was the best looking boy I'd ever seen.

**I FELL IN LOVE!**

I got all the symptoms; sweaty palms, irregular breathing, flushed face, pounding heart, the works!

My mouth was dry and my head felt light.

Everything around us disappeared. There was only him and me.

His name was Scott. He was a sophmore, and his family had just moved her from Washington, D.C.

The teacher announced all this. Scott just stared down at the floor. He looked so. . . lonely and lost.

**HE WAS SO CUTE**!

Ms. Hart told him to go sit in the third row, one seat back; only two seats ahead of me!

I watched, transfixed, as he walked down the aisle towards his desk (towards me!) his head bowed.

I watched him sit down. I watched him open the copy of Romeo and Juliet Ms. Hart had handed him. I watched him read.

And as I did all this, my heart sang.

* * *

I literally bounced home. I was so happy! As the wonderful Lord above would have it, I had not only English with Scott, but Algebra, Biology, and Home Ec. with him too!

I skipped up the driveway, pranced up to the door, and danced inside.

_"I feel pretty, oh so pretty! I feel pretty, and witty, and gaaaaaaaaaaaaaay_!" I sang as I twirled into the livingroom. Unfortunately, my foot got entangled with the lampcord, sending me (and the lamp) crashing to the ground.

**_CRASH_**! (like that)

However, even that didn't bring me down from my cloud. I merely began to roll from side-to-side as I continued to sing my love-struck heartout.

"Was that a crash?"Hawkeye asked, running into the room with Trapper at his heels.

_"A crash of victory, Hawkeye_!" I screamed happily, and then proceeded to continue to roll from side-to-side as a sang in a rather off-key voice.

_"I feel pretty! Oh so pretty! I feel pretty, and witty, and gaaaaaaaaaaay!"_

Love does that to ya. It turns you into an idiot. But at that time, I didn't care. I didn't care that Scott didn't even know I existed. I didn't care that I was completely singing off-key. I didn't care that Hawkeye and Trapper were staring at me like I was completely nuts.

All that mattered was that the cutest, sweetest, most terrific boy ever was in four, count 'em, FOUR of my classes.

Coincidence? I think not.

* * *

**NOT IN VICKY'S POV!**

* * *

"I'm worried," Hawkeye whispred to Trapper as Vicky continued to roll and sing in the background.

"I know," the curly haired surgeon whispered back. "Where has our sullen little teenager gone?"

Indeed, that seemed to be a good question as the two doctor's watched the blonde-headed girl roll around in manic happiness.

"What do you supposed could've happened to her?" Trapper finally asked. The two were now sitting in the couch, watching Vicky continue **(STILL!) **to sing from her position on the floor. The teen suddenly began to sing something else, as if to give them some kind of clue or answer.

_"Love is in the air! Everywhere I look aroooooooouund. . .!"_

The doctors exchanged looks before turning their attention back to the blonde on the floor.

"Do you think it's love?" Trapper asked outloud.

Vicky eagerly answered.

"**YES**! I thought you'd NEVER ask! I'm in love! Pure, sweet, wonderful, glorious, addicting love! L to the O to the V to the E! L-O-V-E! LOOOOOOVE! Yippee!"

And then she went back to singing.

_"I believe in miracles! Where ya from. . . You sexay thang! Sexay thang you. . ."_

"Time to play detective," Hawkeye muttered, sighing.

"Ok, but I get to be the bad detective this time," Trapper replied. The both sighed.

"Girl or boy?" Hawkeye asked.

"Boy," Vicky replied cheerfully.

"Age?" Trapper inquired.

"I dunno, 15 or 16, something like that," was the reply.

"Hair color?"

"Chestnut brown. . ."

"Oh, she's poetic, Hawkeye! Eye color?"

"Blue-blue. The bluest blue you've ever seen! Even better than your's, Hawkeye!"

"I resent that.I_** LIKE **_my eyes, and they're a very nice blue"

"I never said they weren't!"

"But you were implying it!"

"Was not!"

"Was too!"

"Was not!"

"Was too!"

"S'not!"

"S'too!"

Trapper intervened.

"**PLEASE**, you two! This is becoming sick!"

The interrigation continued.

"Height and weight. . . My eyes ARE a nice blue color. . ."

"I NEVER SAID THEY WEREN'T, HAWKEYE!. . . I'd say about 5 feet, 7 inches."

"I don't like the looks of this Hawkeye. . . Does he have any tattoos? Any signs or symbols that are gang/mob related?"

That's when Vicky sat straight up, which was suprising considering the cord was wrapped completely around her body due to her rolling.

"NO! There's no way my future husband is involved in any kind of gang!" Vicky shouted angrilly. Then she tried to sit up, but of course, was unable to because she was all wrapped up in the cords.

"Need some help?" Trapper asked, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Vicky huffed. The two surgeons stood, bended down, and pulled the young teen up.

Instead of thanking them, Vicky stuck her nose up in the air, "hmphed," and proceeded to hop away.

Hawkeye and Trapper burst out laughing.

* * *

**BACK TO VICKY'S POV!**

* * *

So there I was in dreamland, most likely snoring away in my warm bed as I dreamed of Scott and I with our future family,when **THEY **came in and woke me up.

**_"GOOD MORNING, VICKY!"_**

**_"WAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIII!"_** I screeched, falling out of bed.

I laid there, twitching, listening to my 'two favorite uncles' try to muffle their laughter behind me.

Finally, I pulled myself up and faced the two, holding one hand over my bruised nose.

"What'd ya do that for!" I screamed, my heart racing.

"It's time to wake up! You have a big day ahead of you," Hawkeye said cheerily.

I swore loudly, letting lose a string of curses that would've made a sailor blush with shame (and THAT'S saying something).

That, however, didn't seem to faze them one bit.

"That's right! Practice putting sentances together," Trap encouraged as he pulled me up.

"That's our little over-acheiver," Hawkeye chimed in.

"What time is it?" I yawned, sleepiness reclaiming me as I gave up trying to stay mad at the two.

"4:00AM," Hawkeye answered.

Oh, how anger quickly returns to the body.

**_"ARE YOU INSANE!" _**I screeched at them. **_"HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MINDS! THE ROOSTER ISN'T EVEN UP YET!"_**

It was true, too.

"Yes," Trapper answered, smiling as if I had just told him Christmas had come early. "But today is study day. And a succesful day always starts bright and early."

"I'll study at school, when it's brighter and earlier," I muttered, crawling back into the safety of my warm bed.

"Oh, no you won't," Hawkeye contradicted as he yanked me out of bed by my ankles.

**_"THIS IS CHILD ABUSE!" _**I wailed unhappily.

"No, it's called 'Tough Love,'" Trapper corrected, and both doctors dragged me out of the room and downstairs to the kitchen.

* * *

"That's right, it's a very serious disease," Hawkeye said into the phone. He was talking to the school office; apparently, I was staying home for school all day so I could study for my tests.

Studying.

At home.

With my **_FAMILY._**

**_ALL OF THEM._**

That included Hawkeye, Trapper, Klinger, Henry, Radar, Father Mulchay, Margaret, and Frank.

Oh, the horror.

Don't tell me I'm lucky! I am **NOT **lucky. Yes, it does sound cool for people from your favorite TV series to pop up into your house and stay with you, but trust me, it's** NOT.**

You never know how much destruction they can do until they get there. . .

"What's the disease?" Hawkeye asked, most likely repeating the question our ever-paranoid school secretary asked.

I struggled vainly against Trapper's hold, frantically trying to bite his hand so I could scream S.O.S.

"The disease poor little Vicky has is. . . is called Tresolarchemy," Hawkeye said.

I almost fell over.

"What's that?" Hawkeye continued. "You've never heard of it? Oh, it's very rare, very uncommon, only happens to 1 out of 200 people. What's that? What's it do?"

"Hawkeye, she's licking me!" Trapper hissed to Hawk as I slobbered all over his hand. It was not pleasant, believe me.

"Well, ah, Tresolarchemy is ah. . . it's very contagious," Hawkeye said, signaling for Trapper to hold on and/or to keep it down. "It causes large boils to pop up all over a person's skin, and it makes them foam at the mouth. . . And to have an unresistible urge to drink milk. . . And. . . And it makes them act like a monkey."

**_'Lies! They're all lies!' _**I wanted to scream.

"Ooo-aaaah," Trapper went, imitating the noises a monkey makes to help his friend out. I began to fight tooth and nail (I did NOT want people to think that**_ I_** thought I was a monkey).

"Yes, she's over there groaning and monkeying around on the couch as we speak," Hawkeye said, nodding his head.

Trapper made a few groaning noises and monkey sounds. I was almost in tears.

"Alright ma'am. . . Yes, thank you. . . Ok, you do that. . . Bye bye," Hawkeye said, and he hung up the phone. Trapper released me, and I fell down to the floor.

I looked up at them, sobbing pathetically.

**_"Why?_**" I wailed_. **"Why do you do this to mmmeeeeeeeeeee?"**_

The two surgeons merely laughed as I sobbed pathetically.

* * *

**OH YEAH! GO ME! I GOT TWO A'S, 1 B, AND 1 C ON MY REPORT CARD! WAH-HOO!**

**Thank you LadyoftheLlamas for praying for me, Kooshball. . . And anyone else out there! I love all of you! You you you, and especially you! **


	17. A Day At The Mall

**Note:** This is written in third person perspective, mainly because it's a guest chapter, and partly because I (Kooshball) can.

**What the Hell is going on?**

**Chapter 17 by Guest author Kooshball**

**Edited by the Extremely Lazy and Uninspired Kitty Kat-chan**

**Day at the Mall (Wanted: Better chapter title)**

**

* * *

**

Vicky should have been grateful. She had a day off school, and it was thanks to Hawkeye and Trapper. But instead, she was annoyed.

"Goddamn MASH characters are ruing my LIFE!"

See? Maybe it was the fact they rang up the school. What if someone had recognised them? Maybe it was the fact they'd made up some horrible disease that she supposably caught that had Trapper screeching like a monkey.

"A effin' monkey, for god sakes!"

Yeah, the monkey had probably been the final straw.

"Hey, what are you worried about?" Hawkeye asked. "We got you out of school for the day, right? What are you complaining about?" He and Trapper were sitting on the couch in the living room, while Vicky paced in front of them, a sour look on her face.

"You've got the school believing I was screaming like a monkey," she said, not even pausing from her pacing. Trapper gave one of his grins.

"It was pretty funny, though," he said. The grin quickly disappeared when Vicky stopped pacing to glare at him. The doorbell rang, and Vicky looked up at the ceiling.

"It can't get any worse, can it?" she asked the ceiling. "Please tell me it doesn't get worse."

There was a high pitched scream from the front door, and a yelp from Klinger, who must have gone to answer it.

"It got worse," Hawkeye muttered to Trapper.

Vicky gave Hawkeye and Trapper another look.

"Stay," she commanded, pointing a finger at them. Hawkeye and Trapper just smiled innocently at her.

"It's like she doesn't trust us," Trapper said. They waited until Vicky had left the room, then stood up to follow her.

Vicky walked to the front door, swearing under her breath. Hawkeye and Trapper kept their distance, the girl seemed to be in a very ugly mood, and they didn't want to try pushing it too much. At the front door, Klinger was trying to fight off a nineteen year old blond wearing jeans and a pale green top, who was obviously excited.

"I knew it was you guys," she was saying. "Ever since Sara said something at the wedding, I knew it was you! Damn, Klinger, how the hell did you get here?"

Vicky knew many sorts of crazy. Her grandmother, her cousin Mark, and a few others, they were all crazy. But Izzy, her weirdness was… unique. **(A/N: At this point I, Kitty, who is editing, would like to point out that Vicky has no room to talk. We all know that this blonde headed bombshell should be locked up in a padded room, safe from society--she and Izzy both)**.

After moving to Cottageville to live with her Aunt, Izzy had made crazy claims of living in 1951 for several months, until being threatened a visit to a psychiatrist. Izzy had been a huge MASH fan, but refused to watch it. When asked why, Izzy would just smile and shrug before changing the subject quickly.

"Who is she? How does she know my name?" Klinger hissed at Vicky, trying to push her away. Hawkeye and Trapper were sniggering quietly.

"Izzy," Vicky said to the older girl, forcing a smile onto her face. "What are you doing here? Don't you have work?"

"Day off," Izzy said with a smug smile. "I figured we had time to go over your cousin's wedding tape before you headed off to school." Izzy's eyes strayed from Vicky, and she gave a grin. "Hey, Hawkeye," she said. Vicky whipped around, seriously feeling pissed off that Hawkeye and Trapper had followed her.

"Hawkeye, Trapper, Klinger, this is Izzy," Vicky said through gritted teeth. Izzy's face fell for a moment when she saw Trapper.

"I guess you don't know me," she said sheepishly to Klinger. "Sorry if I scared ya." She thrust the video tape out at Vicky, giving her a quick grin. "So, Mark's wedding tape," she said. "I haven't watched it yet, but I think I got some of the funnier moments."

"Great," Vicky said, pushing Izzy towards the open door. "I'll see you later, ok?" Now, it wasn't that Vicky didn't like Izzy; they were close friends, even though with school and Izzy's job they never got to talk often. It was just that Vicky didn't like the idea of Hawkeye and Trapper, yes, and the rest of them, getting into mischief with Izzy. That would be even worse than… well, worse than what she had to put up with now.

"Hey, you don't appear to be getting ready for school," Izzy said, digging her heels in and resisting being pushed out the door.

"Vicky has a day off," Hawkeye said.

"She has Tresolarchemy," Trapper added.

"I'm so going to kill you," Vicky growled at them, waving a fork at them threatningly.

"Hey, since we both have the day off, let's go shopping," Izzy suggested, ignoring the 'horrors' of Tresolarchemy. "Come on, it'll be fun, and we don't get to do anything together."

"I can't leave these guys here, alone," Vicky said, panicky at the idea of the MASH crew being alone in the house. It was bad enough knowing they were there alone whilst she was at school. "They set the kitchen on fire a few days ago. _The kitchen_, Izzy. The whole damn house would have gone up in flames if I hadn't been here."

"We'll bring 'em with us, then," Izzy said, as if it were the simplest solution in the whole world. She cast a sly look at Hawkeye and Trapper. "I know a great place where the booze is cheap at noon," she said, watching their reactions.

"Vicky is meant to be studying," Trapper said, but it was easy to tell they were tempted.

"Are you **NUTS**!" Vicky yelled. "These guys, loose in Cottageville?"

"So where are the others?" Izzy asked, ignoring her friend's protests. She walked out towards the kitchen, poking her head around doorways expectantly. "Holy cow, they really did set the kitchen on fire."

"Izzy, are you even listening to me?" Vicky demanded. Izzy grinned when she heard voices coming from the back yard. She danced out the back door, while Vicky started beating her head against the wall. "Why?" she moaned between bangs. "Why?" Klinger put a hand on her shoulder.

"Are you ok?" he asked.

"_WHY?_" Vicky yelled to the roof, eyes tightly shut, in hope it was all a dream.

"Coming, Vic?" Izzy yelled out. Damn, not a dream. Grudgingly, Vicky walked towards the back door, Hawkeye, Trapper and Klinger following her. Izzy was standing at the back door, her face lit up with excitement.

It turned out the others were having breakfast. Somewhere, somehow, they had found boxes of cereal in the burnt kitchen ("Captain Crunch? What the hell is Captain Crunch?" Henry was asking to no-one in particular). Whilst everyone else was seated on the grass, Margaret and Frank were sitting at the outside table, Frank trying to scare Mattie the dog away.

"Get lost! This is my food, you mutt!" Frank was yelling. Mattie was growling at Frank, with his tail between his legs. Mattie, that is, not Frank. "Probably has rabies," Frank said to Margaret loudly as Mattie barked. Frank jumped and Izzy laughed loudly.

"Hey Mattie," she cooed to the old collie. Mattie went over to Izzy, tail wagging.

"Guys, this is Izzy," Vicky said to her 'family', pouting. "Don't worry about introducing yourselves, she knows who you all are." Izzy grinned, and waved hello. Radar seemed to pale a little; he hadn't forgotten what happened last time Vicky's friends had come over. "She wants to go shopping today," Vicky continued. "I've told her I can't go."

"You're coming, that's final," Izzy said. Margaret gave a loud "Humph".

"You should be at school," Margaret said to Vicky.

"She can't, she's coming shopping," Izzy said.

"You should be at school, too," Margaret snapped at her.

"She doesn't go to school," Vicky said.

"I left years ago," Izzy added. She grinned. "Come on, you guys have been cooped up in the house for how long? Don't you want to go shopping? Buy comfortable clothes, eat food that you've never had before, and see the sights and sounds of Cottageville?" ("WHAT lights and sounds? This is _Cottageville, _South Carolina, Izzy! This ain't Las Vegas or New York!" Vicky shouted in frustration, yanking furiously at her blonde pigtails.)

Father Mulcahy, Henry, Klinger and Radar all looked interested at what Izzy was offering. Even Margaret and Frank seemed to perk up at the suggestion of getting away from the farm, for even just a few hours. Trapper and Hawkeye didn't need to hear anything else, they had long been sold.

"When do we leave?" Hawkeye asked.

"**NO!**" Vicky yelled.

"I'll call a couple of taxis," Izzy said, walking back inside.

"**_WHY?_**" Vicky wailed loudly, Mattie joining in balefully.

* * *

Cottageville Mall was relatively large, compared to the size of the town. Once inside, the crew of MASH were astonished. Never had they seen anything like the Cottageville Mall, painted rusted orange and faded fluorescent pink. (Yes, whoever designed it was colour-blind.) Stereo's blasted out 'elevator music' around the shops, and the gang's eyes shined at the range of shops, once they were over the horrible colour scheme.

"Now, I don't want you guys going off and doing your own thing, ok?" Vicky said, leading the group towards the indoor water fountain. "Guys, are you listening?" She turned around, only to find Father Mulcahy still looking around, the only one not to have already wandered off. "DAMMIT!" Vicky yelled, kicking a large stone pillar repeatedly, ignoring the startled looks several old ladies in robes and slippers shot at her as they passed by quickly.

Izzy and Klinger had run off to a clothes store, both positively drooling at the dresses on display. Margaret and Frank were heading for (of course) the army surplus store, while Radar was seemed to be drawn in by the Pet shop. Vicky had no idea where Hawkeye, Trapper or Henry might be. Possibly looking for the bar. (Yes, the bar.)

"Izzy, I'm going to kill you for talking them into this!" Vicky yelled across the building. She was ignored as Izzy skipped into the shop with Klinger.

"I wouldn't worry," Father Mulcahy said behind her. "I'm sure they'll be alright."

"They won't be once I find and deal with them," Vicky muttered.

Vicky often wondered how she and Izzy had become friends. Izzy was a few years older than her, and at times, obviously needed the help of a psychiatrist—of course, this wasn't saying much. Vicky didn't exactly have all of her marbles, either. Actually, they were both just as insane, just as psychotic. Let's just hope no one ever locks them up in a room full of sugar with a DVD player, and the entire seasons of MASH on DVDs.

It was probably thanks to Vicky's grandmother that they had met. Vicky had been shopping with Granny at the supermarket, idly picking cans and boxes off the shelves. Suddenly, Granny collided with someone else's trolley, probably thinking she was in a dodgem car at the fair. Vicky had yelled at Granny, apologised, then yelled a bit more.

"Hey, don't worry about it," the other shopper had said. She introduced herself as Private Izzy Parker before quickly correcting herself. "Izzy Parker, without the Private," she said with a grin. "It's going to take a while to get used to the future again." After a few minutes of talking with Izzy, Vicky decided that the older girl was insane, and not just the safe insane that was her friends and family. Too late, Vicky tried to excuse herself, but Granny spoke up.

"I'm sorry, dear," she said, seemingly normal for a moment. "Come to our house for dinner tonight to make up for that nasty mess. Bring your parents along." Izzy said goodbye, and turned up later that night with her Aunt Amy, and _somehow_, amongst the flying vegetables, made friends with Vicky. The younger girl later decided that Izzy might be insane, but obviously not dangerous—and like Koosh said before, Vicky really had no room to be thinking her friend was insane.

Vicky found Izzy in the dress shop after pulling Radar and the two Majors away from the other shops (after she caught them making out, and after they tried to force into some fatigues, AND after they tried to sign her up for boot camp), arguing with Klinger over the length of a skirt she was trying on.

"We have to find Hawkeye, Trapper and Henry," she said, pushing her towards the changing rooms. "Come on, buy it and let's go."

"That's disgusting," Frank sniffed at Klinger, who was still deciding if he liked the pale cream dress on the stand. Margaret, however, was eyeing the dress as well.

"You're right," Klinger declared. "The blue is definitely more my style!" Vicky whimpered pathetically, asking the seemingly sadistic lord above WHY he was doing this to her, before glancing at her watch impatiently. They'd been here for over an hour already, how much could have the three drunk in that much time?

"Izzy!" she yelled frantically. The older teen appeared again, back in her jeans and green top.

"Look, they can't have got into too much trouble," Izzy said reassuringly. "I mean, it's only been an hour and fifteen minutes."

"Exactly," Vicky said. Izzy rolled her eyes as Vicky stormed from the store. She and the MASH crew (or what was there of the MASH crew) followed her. They were just heading past K-Mart when Vicky heard two familiar voices complaining about the bar.

"They didn't have martinis, or scotch," Trapper was saying.

"Not even a good looking waitress," Hawkeye added. "I mean, beards may have been the style for them in the Stone Age, but it's not such a great look on women now."

"Found you," Vicky said thankfully. "Let's go, guys."

"What about Lieutenant Colonel Blake?" Radar pipped up.

"Holy shit—where_ is_ Henry?" Vicky demanded.

"Still in the bar," Trapper said. "You know, they refused to serve us even remotely drinkable? They'll drive all their customers away with the cheap stuff they're serving."

"I thought the cheaper was better for you guys," Klinger said.

"Normally, but this booze was disgusting," Hawkeye said. "Even we couldn't stomach it."

"Henry didn't seem to mind it, though," Trapper added thoughtfully.

"It's so disgusting to see an officer drunk," Margaret sniffed.

"Come on," Vicky said. "We've got to find him and go home."

"Why?" Izzy asked, sounding disappointed.

"Someone might recognise them," Vicky said. "Do you know what could happen if someone _recognises _them?" Izzy thought about this for a moment.

"Ok," she said. "We'd better find Henry."

It wasn't hard to find Henry. He was outside the bar, having been kicked out by annoyed drinkers, and was now singing loudly to a photo booth. Yes, a photo booth. And yeah, I don't get it either. People are strange when they're drunk. Still, it's hilarious watching Vicky deal with all this...

"Henry, get your butt over here," Vicky said loudly. Henry looked over, then stumbled over to the group, falling over as he reached them. He was caught quickly by Hawkeye and Klinger, who helped him stand straight.

"How much have you had to drink?" Trapper asked, stifling laughter.

"I'm not drunk, honestly officer," Henry said, breathing heavily in Hawkeye's face.

"Let's get him out of here before one of us is sick," he said to Vicky.

"Go get a taxi," Vicky snapped to Izzy. Izzy nodded, finally realising the seriousness of the MASH crew being out in public, and pulled a mobile from her pocket.

"Look, Vic, I'm sorry about all this," Izzy apologised, looking thoroughly flustered. "I thought the trip out might loosen you up, you looked so stressed, and I thought… I thought I could help out, and--"

"Izzy, **TAXI!**" Vicky yelled. Izzy turned, and punched a number into her phone. She followed Vicky and the MASH gang as she talked on the phone.

"Hey, you seem a bit uptight," Hawkeye said to Vicky as they walked. Henry had since been given to Frank and Margaret to help along, much to their disgust, and Hawkeye and Trapper were keeping in step with Vicky.

"Yeah, and I thought you were angry when we called up your school," Trapper said.

"You didn't just run around the Cottageville Mall, worried someone was going to recognise you for who you really are," Vicky muttered loudly. "Did you know I found Frank and Margaret making out in the back of the army surplus store? Do you know what I'm going to have to do to my eyes when we get home to remove that image burnt onto my retinas?"

"But Vicky—" Hawkeye started, but Vicky wasn't through yet.

"AND DO YOU KNOW OF THE HORRORS I WENT THROUGH WHEN THEY CAUGHT ME, AND TRIED TO BY ME SOME FATIGUES? YES! THEY TRIED TO BUY ME SOME FATIGUES! AND THEY TRIED TO SIGN ME UP FOR BOOT CAMP!" the blonde roared, startling several customers. The innocent civillians ran away to saftey.

"Is that any reason to take it out on your friend?" Hawkeye asked. Vicky glanced back, and sighed. Izzy was trailing further behind, head down, feet dragging.

"Damn MASH characters," she mumbled.

* * *

They needed three taxis to get back to the farm. Hawkeye, Trapper, Radar and Klinger were in one taxi, Father Mulcahy, Henry and the two Majors in another, leaving Vicky to share a taxi with Izzy.

"I'm really sorry I made you do all this today," Izzy said. "I mean, you were meant to be studying, and it was stupid taking those guys out to the Mall. What was I thinking?"

"It's ok," Vicky said.

"No, it's not," Izzy said. "These aren't the same people I spent six months with. I need to remember that."

"This is the whole Korea thing again, isn't it?" Vicky asked. Izzy nodded.

"Call Aunt Amy and tell her if you want," Izzy said. "Maybe I _should_ get a psychiatrist."

"Nah, I wouldn't do that," Vicky said. There was a pause between them.

"I won't come over again," Izzy promised. "Not until they're gone."

"Why?" Vicky asked. "You know these guys, and I need all the help I can get watching them. What if they blow up the toilet or something?" Izzy grinned.

"I don't like to watch the TV show any more," Izzy explained. "It's because I don't want to wreck what I had with these guys by seeing them… not remember me." Vicky nodded sombrely.

"If I call and I seem desperate for help, you'll know why," Vicky said. Izzy grinned.

"If you're truly desperate for help, I might come over," she said. Izzy leant forward, tapping the driver on the shoulder. "Here's fine," she said. She handed Vicky money to pay for the taxis as the car pulled up to the sidewalk and she got out. "Good luck with everything," Izzy said before skipping towards her Aunt's house. The taxi dropped Vicky off at her grandparent's farm a little later, the MASH characters waiting patiently.

"That was great," Trapper said, Hawkeye nodding in agreement.

"I've got a great idea for a new dress," Klinger was saying to Father Mulcahy, while Frank and Margaret sneered at him distastefully as they tried to hold Henry upright.

"Never, _EVER_, mention this outing again," Vicky told them, going inside. The group followed her quietly, subdued by the obscenities she was muttering loudly. She collapsed on the couch in the living room, thinking back to this morning. It had started off as such a good day, too. The sky had been clear, the weather had been perfect, and she'd almost forgotten about the mess in the kitchen until she got up.

"Hey, what about this?" Hawkeye asked, waving a tape in front of Vicky's face.

"What's this?" Vicky asked, snatching it from him.

"Your friend, Izzy, brought it this morning, remember?" Trapper asked. Vicky couldn't help herself.

"He he he he…" she said. "Mark's wedding tape." Vicky was going to enjoy watching this later on.

* * *

**Alright, everyone give a round of applause for the great Kooshball! YAY, KOOSHBALL! spotlight shines on Kooshball while confetti is thrown in the air, and people clap in the background**

**Loverly… Anywho, I've got two, count 'em, TWO important announcements to make.**

**The first half of 'What The Hell' is almost complete. Just the first half, not the fic itself! The next half will have B.J. and Potter instead of Henry and Trapper. So enjoy these chapters! ENJOY THEM, I SAY!**

**2) After a few meetings, Kooshball and I have decided that we are going to get a joint account, and create a self-insertion fic in which the two of us end up in the MASH world. Not our lovable, slightly insane characters, but ourselves. You can love the idea, or you can hate it—it's up to you. Review and tell us what you think!**


	18. This Is Not Goodbye

_**Hello, all (yes, I know this chapter's late, and I'm very sorry about that)! This is Kitty Kat-chan, here with the last chapter of the first section. Do not be sad. We had a lot of good times with the first season characters. And we had some bad times! A few things could've gone better, or just not happened at all. But since this is reality (sort of, kind of… Well, not really), all good things must come to an end. This first section is one of them.** _

_**Just remember all the good times we've had. And don't forget that we'll see Trapper and Henry again, in the future—the, ah, not too distant future. **_

_**So put your hands together and give a semi-final applause for the first season cast! Tally ho!**_

**_Warnings: There won't be too much MASH stuff in this chapter, mostly just stuff about Vicky. However, the MASH characters are present at the beginning and end of this chapter. The middle stuff, however, is important too, so you might wanna read it to save yourself some confusion. _**

* * *

_**Quote of the Day**_

_**Hawkeye: **(to a newly arrived BJ): Don't forget this is your first day at school. The worst part is you'll get used to all of this._

**_Disclaimer: I do not own MASH. It's owners' lawyers made that very clear to me… (is hiding inside a cabinet)_**

**What The Hell Is Going On?**

**Chapter 18: This Is Not Goodbye**

* * *

I glanced up at the clock briefly before turning my attention back to the test. Fifteen more minutes—more than enough time.

You know what's strange? What's strange is that through all the torture, through all the pain, and through all the repeated sadism, my so-called 'family' some how managed to teach me every single thing I'd ever need to know for those damn tests. They really did.

Henry the 8th's first wife? Catherine of Aragon, **DUH!**

Their child? Mary Tudor, more commonly known as Bloody Mary.

The formula for slope? Simple; y equals mx + b.

How many muscles are in the human foot (ok, WHY did my coach ask that?)? Well that's a no brainer; there are twenty-six bones in the human foot, including nineteen muscles, thirty-three joints, and one hundred and seven ligaments (but hey, who's counting?).

Yep. Everything seemed to be going pretty well.

Too bad it wouldn't last.

* * *

By the time school was let out, it was starting to rain really hard. Lightning lit the sky and thunder rumbled. But did this ruin my good mood? Hells no!

When I got home, despite the fact that I was soaked from head to toe, I was still in a very good mood. I was humming the tune to 'Minority' by Green Day, and I was practically skipping. Yes, I know, that isn't a good sign.

"Hello, everyone!" I sang as I bounced through the door and into the living room, where Hawkeye and Trapper were stretched out on the couches, sharing martinis. They stared at me in shock.

I blinked and stared back. We stayed like that for about fifteen minutes.

"What?" I finally asked, becoming slightly annoyed.

"Who are you?" Trapper finally asked.

"And what have you done with Vicky?" Hawkeye added, pulling out a can of coke from the cooler beside him. I rolled my eyes.

"Ha ha, very funny. Everyone's a comedian," I said sarcastically. Hawkeye nodded, handing me the coke, which I immediatly opened.

"That's what I was telling Frank, but he wouldn't believe me."

I snorted into my can.

"So, I take it school went well?" Trapper asked, changing the subject. I nodded, wiping soda off my nose.

"Yup. I don't know how you guys did it, but I think I did pretty well on my tests."

"Well of course you did," Hawk agreed, rolling his eyes as if this was obvious. "Trap and I taught you."

"So did Father Mulchay, Radar, and Henry," I reminded.

The two men rolled their eyes.

I threw my book bag into the corner and plopped down into an easy chair. "Time for me to watch some TV," I said to no one in particular.

"During a storm?" Trapper asked, sounding very surprised. I nodded.

"Duh! Best thing to do during a storm is to watch TV."

I turned the TV on and got myself comfortable. I saw my two 'uncles' exchange looks out of the corner of my eye, but I chose to ignore them.

Everything got quiet then. I mindlessly flipped channels while Hawk and Trap sipped their martinis silently. Soon Klinger joined us, then Henry (who was closely followed by Radar), then Father Mulchay, and finally, the two Majors.

We made small talk, ("How was your day?"—"Oh, it was good, Father Mulchay. I'm pretty sure I aced my tests, thanks to you guys."—"Well, I'm very glad to hear it.") passed some drinks around, and then fell back into another comfortable silence.

Then—

_**CRACK-A-BOOM**_ went the thunder outside. I yelped, scared senseless. The lights flickered, then went out.

"Aw, shit," I moaned. No one answered. It had gotten strangely quiet all of the sudden. I thought that was strange.

"Guys?" I called, reaching out into the darkness. I felt around for an arm, a leg—anything. But all I felt was air.

I turned to the left and felt around there.

Just the couch.

I turned to my right and reached out.

Just the table.

I began to panic.

"Hawkeye?" I shouted. "Trapper, Henry, Radar? Father Mulchay? Klinger? Margaret… Frank?" No one answered. My breathing was getting labored and my heart was pounding against my ribcage. I tried to make myself calm down.

Suddenly, the lights flickered back on.

And that's when I realized that the members of the 4077th were gone, leaving behind two half-empty martini glasses behind.

* * *

Of course, I refused to believe it. I mean, they couldn't be gone. They had to be there! I figured they were just playing a trick on me. They were probably hiding somewhere, ready to jump out and say "Ha ha, got ya Vicky!"

I searched the house. They weren't in any of the bathrooms, the closets, the guest rooms, my grandparents room, the kitchen, or in my room. I was almost in tears after I had finished tearing apart my room. I looked out the window hopelessly and out into the dark night.

Just then, lightening flashed across the sky, successfully illuminating the barn against the dark sky.

"The barn!" I shouted, feeling my hope returning a little. I grabbed my jacket from the chair and pulled it on. I zipped it up and pulled the hood over my face.

'Please let them be there, please let them be there,' I prayed as I raced downstairs, stopping only to grab the flashlight.

I threw open the back door and raced out into the storm. I turned the flashlight on and shined towards the direction of the barn as I ran. Once there, I threw the barn door open and stumbled inside.

I shined the light everywhere around the barn, searching desperately for any sign of the ones I had come to known as my family.

Nothing.

Tears began to well up in my eyes. Chocking, I dropped the flashlight and fell down onto my knees, unable to believe what had happened.

"No," I moaned, covering my face with my hands.

'They're gone,' I thought dully. 'And they aren't coming back.'

I brought my knees up to my face and sobbed.

* * *

I spent the next year and a half telling myself that nothing had happened. The 4077th had **NOT** spent almost a whole month in my house. They had **NOT** almost burned down my kitchen. My cousin did **NOT** marry a drunk Frank Burns. I told myself that it had all been one bizarre dream.

Oh, how wrong I was.

Over the next year and a half, I changed. And by that, I mean I grew up. I went from the sulky, bratty little fifteen-year-old to a mature (well… more mature than I was then), cheerful seventeen-year-old woman (for the record, I had just turned seventeen and was going into my junior year).

Granny and Pop changed, too. They were still loving (and of course, still quite senile), but as we all know, age does things to you. My grandparents were no exception. One day, Granny accidentally left the stove on, and the entire house almost got burned down. We got out with a few minor burns, scratches, and bruises, but other than that, we were fine.

However, my grandparents decided that it wasn't safe for me to stay with them anymore. I thought that was crazy, of course—I lived with the two of them for almost nine years and I hadn't been killed yet (surprisingly).

But Granny begged…

And when Granny begs, it's impossible to say no to her.

So it was decided that I would go and live with my two uncles in Texas.

But not just any uncles. Oh no, that wouldn't be crazy enough! I was sent to live with Granny's two younger brothers—which means, my new guardians were my **GREAT** uncles.

As soon as I discovered this, I quickly pointed out that I wouldn't be much better off with them, because they would be pretty old too.

"Nonsense," Granny had said with a careless wave of her hand. "Hub and Garth are way more responsible than I ever was."

Responsible. _Right. _

I decided that if I was gonna spend the rest of my high school days with two old, diaper-wearing men (this was how I pictured them to be at the time), then I wasn't going alone. So, I struck up a deal.

I would willingly, peacefully, and gratefully go and live with my two old uncles **IF** (and only if) I could take a friend with me.

The chances of that happening were slim to none. But miracles _do_ happen, especially when you least expect them to…

* * *

Would you believe it, but they agreed (though Granny had to spend two hours over the phone convincing my uncles to let an extra person come), and before I knew it, I was riding down a dirt road, under the big ol' Texas sky, inside a tiny, cramped little car with my _**GOOD**_, **_LOYAL_**, and **_KIND-HEARTED_** best friend, Izzy (of course, I had to use the whole guilt trip to convince her to come with me, since she hated the idea of living with two old guys as much as I did).

I was staring out the window, and she was tapping her foot impatiently.

"Why am I doing this again?" Izzy sighed after spending two hours sitting in silence.

"Because you're my best friend, and you love me, and you wouldn't want me to spend the rest of my high school days being miserable," I replied automatically, not even bothering to look away from the window.

Izzy sighed again, and banged her head against the seat. I started to feel guilty for dragging her with me… But then I remembered that she was a twenty-year-old woman, and she didn't **HAVE **to listen to me. She just chose to. Now, is that my fault? No, it wasn't.

"Here's the rode," the driver called back to us as he turned the car left. I noticed there was a sign—no, not just one, but **SEVERAL** signs—up ahead, so I leaned closer to the window to read them.

Here's what some of the signs said:

**CAUTION! NUCLEAR RADIATION UP AHEAD!**

**BEWARE OF DOGS!**

**TURN BACK NOW!**

**NO SOLICITERS!**

**TRESSPASSERS WILL BE SHOT! SURVIVORS WILL BE SHOT AGAIN!**

**AREA 51 EXPERIMENTS LET LOOSE IN SURROUNDING AREA! LEAVE IMMEDIATELY!**

"What the fuck…?" I whispered, reading the signs in disbelief. The driver chuckled.

"Yeah, those two old guys are legends around here. Craziest bunch of crackpots ever to walk the face of the Earth. You know, some people say that the two of them were members of the mafia, and that they held up a bank and stole fifty million dollars, then killed twenty-five innocent bystanders before gettin' away," he informed in that Texas drawl of his.

Izzy gave me an evil look, one that plainly said 'you-are-so-gonna-get-it-when-we-get-out-of-this-car!' I smiled nervously.

"Here we are!" chirped the driver as he pulled into the driveway. I looked out the window and stared at the house. It looked almost exactly like Pop and Granny's, except it looked even worse than my grandparents', and it had a tower with a weathervane on top. The porch had two rocking chairs on it, and several headless chickens hanging from the ceiling on hooks. I sighed.

"Home sweet home…"

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, the two of us had our bags out on the porch and we were waving goodbye to the driver. As soon as he was out of sight, Izzy rounded on me.

_"WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME YOUR UNCLES WERE TWO HOMICIDAL MANIACS?"_ she screeched, trying to bash me over the head with her purse. I covered my head with my arms as I frantically tried to dodge the offending handbag.

"Ow! Damn, Izzy, **OUCH!** I didn't know, okay? Ow! Watch it! Ack! My eye!" I squealed. Damn, did she have bricks in her purse or something?

She stopped whacking me finally, but she kept on glaring. I straightened, rubbing my head. I winced. Damn, that hurt!

"Ow… C'mon, let's see if anyone's home. They must not have heard us coming…"

* * *

We spent the next five minutes pounding on the door and shouting. No one answered.

"Do you think they're gone for the day?" Izzy asked, wiping sweat from her forehead. I shook my head.

"Nah. Their trucks here. See?" I pointed to rusted pick-up truck parked beside a rickety old hen house.

Izzy opened her mouth to reply, but stopped suddenly.

"What?" I asked, confused as to why she wasn't speaking.

Izzy waved her hand impatiently, gesturing for me to stop talking. "Shush and listen!" she hissed.

I closed my mouth and listened.

In the distant, I could hear loud popping sounds and shouting.

"You hear that?" Izzy asked. I nodded.

"Yeah, I hear 'em," I said. I leaned over the porch rail and stuck my head out, straining my ears for any kind of noise. Finally, I pulled back and straightened.

"I think it's coming from that lake," I informed, pointing to the lake stationed northwest of the house.

"D'you think it's them?" Izzy asked, pulling irritably at the collar of her t-shirt. It was about 98 degrees at the time, so our clothes were sticking to us and making us sweat and grow even **MORE** irritable.

"I dunno. But there's only one way to find out!" I declared. And with that, the two of us raced towards the lake.

* * *

Fortunately for us, the lake was a lot closer than it looked. As we got closer, we started to see the outlines of two men standing in a boat, in the middle of the lake, pointing two sticks at the water.

_**POW!**_

Oh wait. Those were guns… Not sticks. We slowed down simultaneously as we both realized that the two men were carrying arsenal.

"Oh dear," Izzy said. I nodded.

_"BOW WOW, WOOF WOOF!"_

Suddenly, the two of us were surrounded by a red bloodhound, a pit bull, a German shepherd, a bulldog, a beagle, and four dogs whose breeds I couldn't identify.

The dogs jumped up and down, barking, snarling, and snapping at us. Izzy seized me into a death hug. It's a little known fact, but Izzy is terrified of dogs. Well, most of them anyway. She doesn't have a problem with Mattie or some of the other dogs that wonder around town back home in Cottageville. However, these dogs terrified her.

_"THEY'RE GONNA KILL US!"_ she screeched into my ear. I winced.

"I'm sure they won't!" I shouted to her over the barking. I just stood there like an idiot for a few moments, waiting for Izzy and the dogs to settle down. When I realized that none of that was gonna happen any time soon, I groaned. I hated it when I had to take on the role as the brave one. That was Izzy's job!

Holding my hyperventilating friend around the waist, I carefully maneuvered the two of us around the dogs and towards the edge of the lake. The two old men—'My uncles,' I reminded myself—hadn't realized we were there, because they didn't even look up from what they were doing.

I squinted. What the heck **WERE** they doing, anyway? I strained my ears to hear them over the dogs' barking.

"There's one, Hub! Get 'em, get 'em!"

"I see it! Get the net ready, Garth—"

_**POW!**_

I watched, mesmerized, as a dead fish flew up on the air, flipping once—twice—thrice!—before landing perfectly into the awaiting net, which was being held by the one with glasses. The two men whooped, tossed the fish out of the net and onto the boat floor, and the whole procedure started all over again.

Izzy and I stared, at loss for words. The dogs seemed to loose interest in barking, and instead chose to sniff our legs frantically.

"What the hell are they doing?" Izzy whispered to me. I cocked my head to the side, trying to put everything together.

"I think… They're fishing," I answered uncertainly. Izzy snorted.

"Well, that's one way to do it I suppose," she muttered. I nodded in agreement.

We watched the old men blow two more fish out of the water before Izzy spoke up.

"Oi! Hey, you two! Old guys!"

My uncles **FINALLY** took notice of us. They stood there in the boat, staring at us.

I studied them. They didn't look like Pop, that's for sure. The guy had glasses was tall, about Pop's height I guessed. He was wearing a cowboy hat, a dingy, cream-colored shirt, brown pants, and suspenders.

The other guy was shorter, and had a mustache kinda like Charlie Chaplin's… Except it was bigger, fuller, brown, and graying. He wore a dark beanie, a green shirt with a brown coat, gray pants, and suspenders.

They stared at us, and we stared at them.

"Uh… Hi," I said eventually. They looked at each other.

"Did you send for some hookers?" the shorter one asked his brother. Izzy gasped as my eyes widened.

Okay… That was going just a wee bit far. Izzy and I were **NOT** dressed like hookers, (1)thankyouverymuch.

We were both dressed in shorts, t-shirts, and sneakers—and the shorts weren't even short-shorts!

_"I AM NOT A HOOKER!"_ Izzy said loudly. I patted her shoulder quickly.

"Calm down, let's not make a scene, please. Remember that they have **GUNS**, Izzy," I hissed in her ear. My friend pulled a sour face, but went silent. I turned my attention back to my uncles.

"We aren't hookers!" I called to them. "It's me, Victoria! Your niece, remember? Me and a friend of mine were supposed to come and stay!"

The two brothers looked at each other again, then looked back at us.

Because of all the shouting, the dogs were going crazy again.

_"DOWN YOU EVIL FIENDS! BACK! BACK I SAY!"_ Izzy roared, swinging her purse at them frantically. She looked over to my uncles.

_"OI! CALL YOUR PSYCHOTIC ANIMALS OFF!"_ she shouted.

I sighed. I could already tell that Izzy and I were in for one straaaaaaange ride.

* * *

"You sleep up there. In the tower," Uncle Garth (the one with the glasses) told me, pushing open the door to the tower. I gulped audibly. Due to her 'extreme phobia of heights,' Izzy was able to get the guest room, leaving me with the dark, creepy tower and it's creaky stairs.

To say the least, I wasn't happy with the rooming arrangements. I had to use a lantern to guide myself safely up the stairs, for crying out loud!

"Uh… Thanks," I said uncertainly, lifting the lantern a little. I looked up into the black abyss that was the stairway, then back to my two uncles. Gripping the handle of my suitcase tightly and taking a deep breath, I started towards it.

"Hey," Uncle Garth said suddenly, placing a hand on my arm. I stopped and looked at them.

"We don't know nothin' about kids," Garth began. "So if you need somethin'—"

"—Find it yourself. Or better yet, learn to do without," Uncle Hub (the one with the mustache) finished. I blinked. Garth spoke again.

"We're gettin' old—"

"—Fixin' to die any time now," Hub broke in again. "So if we kick off in the middle of the night…" He paused and shrugged, looking as if he quite liked that idea. "You're on your own."

I slowly edged into the stairway, staring at them as if they were crazy (which they probably were). Then I remembered what that driver had said about Hub and Garth being in the mafia, and killing all those people. Suddenly fearing for my life, I quickly jogged up the stairs, lest my two uncles decided to shoot me because I was taking so long.

* * *

The next day was just like it had been the previous day; not a cloud in the sky, and hot as hell. All four of us were out on the porch; my uncles were in their rocking chairs, sippin' some ice tea, and Izzy and I were sitting on the porch steps.

Izzy was fanning herself with her paperback Harry Potter book, and I was resting my head on my knees, feeling miserable.

'This is how I'm gonna spend the two years,' I thought miserably. That thought really depressed me.

I heard Izzy sigh beside me.

"Can we go inside and watch TV?" she asked my uncles.

Uncle Hub spit out some of the tobacco he was chewing before saying, "It don't work."

Izzy groaned audibly. I lifted my head a little.

"Well… Can I use the phone to make sure Granny and Pop are ok?" I asked hopefully. Uncle Garth turned his steely gray eyes to me, and I flinched.

"Ain't got one," he said before taking a sip of his tea. My jaw dropped.

"You don't have a phone?" I asked in disbelief. Uncle Hub gave me a look, which clearly told me to be quiet. I rested my chin back on my knees and sighed.

It was silent again for the next few moments. I was considering suicide to escape this misery when Izzy asked, "What the heck do you guys do here then if you don't have a phone and ya can't use the TV?"

At that moment, a rather expensive looking red car pulled up into the driveway. Izzy and I watched with interest as a man in a suit stepped out. I immediately noticed that his tie did not go with his suit. That really bothered me. It was obvious to anyone who had at least half a brain that this guy was a salesman.

"Hey!" the salesman said, slapping the hood of his car a bit too enthusiastically. He flashed my uncles a cheesy smile. Izzy snorted in laughter beside me.

The salesman ignored us, focusing all his attention on my uncles.

"Rumor has it that you two have millions stashed away!" the salesman said cheerfully, pulling his hat off to reveal a nice, shiny bald head. "Why not put some of that money to work for you in the high yield only investing in what gold and silver can bring!"

_**POW!**_

_**POW!**_

I nearly jumped out of my skin. Izzy and I snapped our heads over to see my uncles aiming their guns at the salesman. Said man yelped and whirled around, running to his car door. He opened the door, and was about to get in… But not before holding up a handful of pamphlets.

"Could I at least leave you some—"

Uncle Hub readied the gun, aimed, and fired.

_**POW!**_

The pamphlets were reduced to nothing more than a few measly scraps of paper. The salesman dove into his car and took off.

Izzy and I watched the salesman leave before slowly turning our heads to stare at my uncles. They both calmly sipped their tea.

Five minutes later, another salesman came, this time in a blue car.

"Gentlemen,word is out that your two are millionaires—"

_**POW, POW, POW!**_

The poor man didn't even have time to talk about what he was selling.

Five more salesmen came that day. Each one left sooner than the other.

As I watched the fifth one leave, Izzy grabbed me roughly by the collar and hissed in my ear, "I swear, if we make it out of here alive, I am going to **KILL** you!"

I whimpered.

* * *

That afternoon, Izzy and I found ourselves in the living room. Izzy was trying desperately to fix the TV, which was showing nothing more than static.

"I hate these antenna TVs," she hissed, twisting the antennas this way and that. I watched her silently, happy to be as far away from those two psychos as humanly possible.

"Tell me if you see anything on the screen," my friend ordered.

"Yeah, I know," I yawned. I watched the snowy screen, feeling quite bored. After five minutes of unsuccessful bending and twisting, an image finally appeared on screen.

"There!" I shouted excitedly.

"Huh?" Izzy said, bending the antenna, thus destroying the image.

"No! Quick, move the antenna back like you had it!"

"Like this?"

"Yes—wait, no, the other way!"

"You mean this way?"

"Close, but no! That way, to your left—_YOUR OTHER LEFT!_"

"You're confusing me! I don't if you're talking about your left which would be my right or my left which would be your right!"

* * *

Finally, after ten minutes of complete confusion, we finally managed to get the image right.

"I wonder why Uncle Hub said it was broken?" I wondered out loud while Izzy fumbled with the dial.

"He probably couldn't get the antenna right," my friend muttered, turning the dial.

Suddenly, a very familiar theme song that used to fill me with happiness erupted from the TV.

"MASH!" Izzy squealed, bouncing to the spot beside me. I groaned. Ever since that… 'dream,' I hadn't been able to enjoy watching MASH. It was too painful.

"Maybe I'll go outside onto the porch…" I mumbled, starting to get up.

"Oh no you don't!" Izzy growled, dragging me back down by my collar. I yelped.

"You are gonna watch this with me, and you are gonna like it!" she shrieked, a slightly manic glint in her eye.

"Okey-dokey," I agreed feebly, feeling quite scared at that moment. Satisfied, Izzy let go, and I sighed miserably.

Then the screen went all snowy again.

_"YAY!"_ I cheered happily, thankful to be spared the pain.

_"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"_ Izzy wailed. She leaped up and began fighting with the antennas again.

_"STUPID PIECE OF SHI—"_ she started to say, but was interrupted by a bright flash of light.

Yelping, I fell onto my back, temporarily blinded. When my vision cleared, I found myself staring up at the ceiling with a big-ass headache.

Groaning, I pulled myself up, rubbing my eyes with one hand.

"Izzy, what the heck happened?" I asked irritably, letting my hand drop. I opened my eyes completely and gasped. There, sitting before me, was a groaning pile of arms, legs, and green fatigues (and in between all that, I caught a glimpse of some pink material).

"Vicky…" Izzy gasped, slumped against the wall. She was staring at the pile as well.

Izzy didn't have to say it. Nobody had to say it. I already knew who it was. Izzy, however, decided to say it anyway, and she did so with a huge grin on her face.

"The 4077th is back!" she cheered, pumping her fists in the air.

"Unh!" was all I could manage.

* * *

**_(1) Yes, all of that is supposed to be smooshed together._**

_**If any of you can guess what movie Hub and Garth are from, I'll give you a cookie and dedicate the next chapter to you! Review please, and I'll update sooner!** _


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